One Last Chance
by ZeroTheDestroyer
Summary: Time Travel. Harry dies in the Battle of Hogwarts, to wake up in the 1970's: His Parent's Hogwarts Year. Armed with memories of the future he will do all he can to stop Voldemort. That is his goal, and this is his chance. His last chance. HarryNarcissa
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The Boy Who Traveled Through Time

* * *

"Is Draco alive?" she asked, a mother's worry lacing every syllable of her words. "Tell me, please, Potter. Is he alright? " She whispered these words into his ear, urgency ringing, bleeding into her tone.

Never mind how twisted and evil her son was, she only wanted him back.

Harry took a moment to look into her eyes, gazing at her pale face, admiring the strength he saw there, not the beauty. He almost hesitated saying those words, words that could relieve her of her pain and sorrow, simply because he wasn't sure if it was wise.

In a moment she would tell Lord Voldemort that Harry Potter was alive. In a moment he would be back where he started, taking up arms against an enemy that he had no chance of defeating. An enemy, who, ironically, was one of the last remaining relatives he had, seeing as both of them were descendants of the Hollow brothers.

Destiny must have a sense of irony.

"Narcissa, our Lord wants to know the state of the Potter boy. Tell us if he lives or dies, it cannot be that difficult!" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed in the distance, appearing to strain to keep herself from moving nearer to his body, if only to tear it apart.

Harry gripped his wand, the urge to curse her overtaking his common sense, and breathed in, calming himself. He gritted his teeth, hoping that he had the strength to keep from letting his feelings control him, and to prevent throwing himself into another unplanned problem.

This wasn't the time for error. If he made one mistake, everyone would suffer, and perhaps worse than before, because he knew that then they would all take up arms once again, only then it would be their last stand.

Narcissa Malfoy stared at him sadly, eyes threatening to break into tears, but she held it in. If she revealed her feelings about this matter, it would seem to be treason. "Please tell me, I beg you!" she whispered. Her face was inches from his own, so close, he could smell the scent of blood, sweat, and misery, mixed in with malice for the people around her.

He closed his eyes, let out a breath and decided that he needed to tell her this, only so that he wouldn't feel guilty cursing her later, after she betrayed him. "Yes," he said. "He is alright. We saved him." His green eyes challenged her, daring her to tell the Dark Lord.

Narcissa sighed, looking relieved, and she knelt down and touched his pulse, on his neck. For a fraction of an instant Harry almost stabbed the blond mother with his wand, but allowed her to do what she was doing so that he could get back a bit of his power. It probably wouldn't be enough to battle the hordes of evil around him, but perhaps he could cause a distraction to let others escape.

The blond woman touched his cheek, caressing it as a mother should, and maybe something more. "So young," she muttered. Harry almost shivered, hearing the coldness in those words. He was young, the same age as her son, yet he was fighting against an evil man with everything he had.

He knew in his heart that when the day was done, he would die. Whether it was Voldemort, the Death eaters, or an enemy he made along the way that did the deed, this was the end of the road for Harry James Potter. Harry's sweaty fingers wrapped around the wand in his hand, and he brought it close to his chest, for in the next instant, the female Malfoy would declare to the world that Harry Potter was alive.

Harry was about to attack. Until-

"He is dead," she said, turning her ashen face in Bellatrix Lestrange's direction. "Harry Potter has left us." She looked at him, one last time, before looking back away. "Forever."

"Finally!" the evil witch in black shrieked. "My Lord, he is dead! Dead! Little Bitty Potty is dead! Wheee! You killed him my Lord, you slew him! Ha! Hahahaha! Bellatrix laughed. Her voice broke, cracking with every breath she took, and yet she laughed, despite the pain in her gut from wounds inflected by the Dark Lord himself.

Her eyes darted to the back of her head, and drool slipped through her mouth. Anyone watching moved away from her. There was no doubt that the woman had gone mad a long time ago. The fact that she didn't make any attempt to hide her insanity only added to her repulsiveness. "Potty is dead! Potty is dead! Ickle Potty shot in the head! Hahah! Hahaha! See how are Master triumphs, Cissy?"

The dark eyes of predator looked at her sister. She wiped the saliva from her mouth, watching for any sign of weakness from Narcissa, seeing if the sister she held dear was lying to her. The blond looked back at the brunette coldly, blue eyes looking back at brown. Bellatrix smiled. "My Lord, are you not pleased?"

Lord Voldemort did not say a word during this encounter. His frozen snake face fell to the corpse of Harry Potter, who lay curled at the foot of the field, where Narcissa hovered over him. She looked defeated. Voldemort's mouth twisted into a crooked smile, his slitted eyes narrowed, and he chuckled. It became louder, so loud it shook the spines of his victims who huddled close to each other, sending fear to anyone who heard all.

"This was your savior!" he shouted, pointing to the boy, who Narcissa still held, in her arms. "You expected _this_-" Spit flew from his mouth, as if the word tasted bitter in his mouth. "To defeat the greatest wizard of all time."

He shook his head. "Oh, what fools these mortals be," he said, smiling like the snake that he was. "To quote the mudblood poet that these vermin are so fond of."

"Now all that is left is to burn the body," he said. He raised his wand, letting out a flame whip that transformed itself into a giant serpent. It wrapped around in the air, and opened its maw directing itself to the body of Harry Potter.

However before the whip could strike the boy, a great roar thundered across the field, sending people running. "Spiders and Centaurs! Both are attacking!"

Lord Voldemort directed his whip to a nearby horde that got out of the flames' way, and scattered to fight the Death Eaters. The people in the crowd who had, moments ago, given up in the face of this enemy now ran around in a fray hoping to save their lives. The Dark Lord was one thing, but blood-thirsty spiders that could eat you alive was completely another.

Hermione, Ron and Hagrid tried to get past the storming crowds, to get to Harry's body, but everyone was in a melee of panic, making that hard to accomplish. "Death Eaters! To me!" shouted Lord Voldemort. "Do not be afraid, my minions, they are but spiders!"

The enemy of the evil one closed in on Lord Voldemort, their panic telling them to strike down the serpent before he got all his power back. Ronald Weasley was leading the way. Lord Voldemort didn't even wince, when the ground transformed around him into another beast, instead sending it forth through the crowds. Ron was too busy keeping the giant reptile at bay to deal with the Dark Lord, and Hermione followed.

Bodies were smashed, blood oozing from the carcasses of the innocent. The Death Eaters followed their Lord's example sending out killing curses here and there, most of them hit, and those that didn't made many scatter. "We have to fight back! Harry would have wanted us too" Hermione shouted, from the heart of all this.

This wasn't the time to play the game of chance, so the crowd sent back spells just as dark. Many weren't very good at it, but with the fear and rage they felt at this moment, at the death of Harry, many found a side of themselves that they didn't know was there.

The hostages of Lord Voldemort were scattered and there was no real order in their groupings, some of them fought back, but most just died from the attack of the spiders.

Eventually, the centaurs were attacking the Death Eaters, and so were the civilians. Lord Voldemort was slowly pushed back, but that wouldn't be for long, since he would get all his power back soon enough.

Harry, in this chaos, hid himself under a cloak of invisibility and shielded anyone he knew.

He saw the crying form of Andromeda Tonks kneeling over the dead body of her daughter. Harry felt something pierce his soul seeing that. He turned another direction and saw Molly Weasley directing her children further into the battle.

He turned another direction and witnessed all his professors coming into the fray, trying to defend the weak and helpless, who far outnumbered the defenders. Everyone was fighting now, now that the weak were filtered, and even with his death they hadn't given up. It gave him power, it gave him purpose and Harry would see the death of the Dark Lord through at this moment. _Believe me when I say_,_ I'll end this. _

Full power or not, Harry was going to destroy this man, this monster of a snake, who threatened to destroy everyone precious to him. He had watched Voldemort block dozens of killing curses with ease, he had watched him stomp over his enemies as if they were ants, but Harry was not afraid._ He is only human, I can beat him._

Harry was shielding, and dodging all of his enemies, under the cloak that protected against everything vile. It was when he was near the platform, where the Dark Lord stood, that he removed his cloak.

The Dark Lord looked at the boy in surprise, then smiled like the animal that he was. His eyes stared at his own, looking into his mind. "You still survive, Potter?"

Everyone paused when they saw that the Dark Lord had stopped raining fire on the battlefield. They watched in awe as the teen they previously thought dead stood in front of the man, unyielding, like a knight. Harry raised his wand to do battle. "You won't win." The simple fact made the Dark Lord scowl.

He was sure the boy was in the afterlife, how could the Killing Curse not work? The least it should have done was brought him back as a zombie.

"You aren't the Master of Death." Lord Voldemort looked at the boy with fury, then held it back, getting control. He wouldn't play into this teen's game. He was the Dark Lord, he did not just play, he won. "You will never succeed, I will stop you."

The crowd wasn't sure what to make of this. In one hand they wanted Harry to win, on the other they begged him to step down. How could a boy younger than almost all of them defeat such an invincible-seeming force? Such courage and bravery was not seen often in the wizarding world, not in a world of racism, specism, and ignorance.

This was a world where people could turn their backs on you in an instant, where men clung to the old ways and did not let go. This sort of self-sacrifice was something the people were not used to. Seeing it before their very eyes, it was almost like miracle, almost like a new kind of magic.

"Very well." The Dark Lord stepped forward. He smiled in contempt at his foe. "This will be the last time, boy."

Harry didn't say anything. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, he would scream- not in fear, but in rage- and never stop. The person before him had done much to make his life hell, and Harry was more than willing to return such a favor.

"Good bye, Harry Potter."

* * *

The first thing Harry saw when he opened his eyes was the vast blue sky.

It went on forever, only hindered by a few clouds that breezed gently across, like balls of cotton. His body felt as if it had gone through a storm, as if a blizzard had frozen it, then defrosted itself into the fires of hell, then torn him apart in a cyclone.

Harry had no second guesses about what happened.

He died.

That was both plain and simple. The killing curse had hit him and torn him out of the mortal realm. Now the question had become: where was he?

This must have been the afterlife, the great adventure that Sir Albus had always talked about.

He couldn't get up, one more try and he gave up. When his strength returned he would try again.

Harry couldn't move his hands or feet, nor did he want to. He bent his neck to the side and saw that he was on a street, to be more specific he was in front of an alley, a very filthy one. Harry wondered if he should find this place familiar since it seemed like he had been here before.

A part of him told him that it didn't matter, that this was just any old place, London was filled with slums. He should be focusing on what was really important.

His death.

For now, he was alright looking at the clouds. Harry did that when he felt the pressure the world had always given him in his life, or previous life, technically. Now that he was dead, he wondered if all the worries he had were pointless.

"Did Voldemort win?" he whispered. He threw a killing curse at the Dark Lord as well and he had watched it strike the man, watched as his wand flew out of his hands and into the forest. "I am sure I touched him, the green ray was the last thing I saw, surely that must have been what he saw as well."

He hoped Neville had destroyed the snake. That was all that was left. If the snake survived, the nightmare would repeat itself, and Harry Potter's great sacrifice would be for nothing.

He was now the boy who was killed, he was sure of that. The orphan didn't need to know what his new title would be, but if he had to guess, it would be the boy who defeated the Dark Lord the second time. Hopefully someone wouldn't need to defeat him for a third win.

The clouds were gathering in the sky, and Harry wondered if rain would come soon.

On days like this his aunt would make him go outside and garden, it didn't matter how stormy the outside world looked, it was the best time for certain plants to absorb water, and her dear old nephew was the boy for the job.

"Sadly, I think I might miss her as well," Harry said to himself.

The orphan smiled at the image of what the Dursleys would do now that he was gone, he wondered if they would actually hire someone to clean out the gutters, they were too cheap to pay someone to do that, after all.

He wondered about his friends, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and all the rest. They were so important to him, they were closer to him than the clothes on his body, albeit considering that the clothes on his body were mostly Dudley's it probably wasn't much of an analogy.

He rolled to the side and tried to crawl into the alley. He wanted to get into some shade before the storm came. His slow crawling hadn't alerted anyone on the streets, yet, since they were all looking for shelter. It said a lot about the morals of the people of London when they just ignored a half-dying boy on the curb of the street.

_I can barely move. _He felt numb. _I just want… to..._

Harry closed his eyes, and for the second time that day, all that covered him was darkness. Like the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs, like the darkness in the chamber of secrets, like the one in his soul, sinking into his mind, like liquid poison from the scar that was a Horcrux.

_No. Not this time. _

In an instant he opened them. If he let the darkness take him again, he wouldn't have any more control of his life, he wanted to know where his next destination was. Whether it was heaven or hell, he would face it.

Slowly, energy returned to him, power that came from his very soul, a soul tainted by evil. Harry Potter ground his teeth together and fought through the pain.

He had been bruised and battered, but wouldn't stop here. This wasn't the ending that he was hoping for._ C'mon, Potter. What would Luna say if she saw you now? _Probably something retarded.

He stood up with both feet, straightening up into the heaven, his knees strong. Harry breathed in, trying to fill his lungs with life. He hated the way he was just then, so weak and powerless, always letting others fight for him.

The first time he fought his own battle and he died, but he took down his enemy with him.

At least, he hoped he had.

He made his way into the alley, the darkness becoming less oppressive. He started seeing things clearer for the first time since coming here. This was a place he knew of, a place of safety, sanctuary. "But there's something off about this place," he muttered. "It looks like Number 12, but I don't remember these bins being here."

Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Hidden in the darkness was the manor that was the last thing Sirius had left him. He never had the time to come for a proper visit, but maybe now was the time. "When you're dead, maybe you go to a place that looks like home." He walked there, slowly limping his way along. His feet hurt so much; the pain went up his spine and into the base of his neck. "Maybe Sirius is there?"

The Resurrection Stone of the Hollow indicated that his godfather was indeed dead, or at least that is what ghost Sirius had told him. If he was in heaven, maybe he would meet the man here as well. He mentally tried to find the house and in an instant the walls of the House of Black came into view, opening like a flower in bloom. Like vines they wrapped around the shadows, and pushed out into the open, the tinted windows looking down at him, knowing who their master was. The house became more clear, and the vision of the house that once haunted his dreams, visions of Sirius, came again to him now, more vividly than before.

But he wouldn't back away; he feared coming here for the memories of his god father, yet wanted to come here for the house itself, for the promise that it kept. _"Harry, if you want, maybe, that is, if you wanted to live here... with me.._." That's what Sirius had said.

Harry closed his eyes, shutting out the man's voice. Sirius had never lived long enough to fulfill that promise, would he? And it was his fault!

He got as far as the front step, before his feet took him closer to the entrance. The black door told him that he would need to have a key to open the front, but he didn't have one, naturally. He looked underneath the rug to see if Sirius had kept any spares; up until this point in his life he would just ask Kreacher to let him in, however he couldn't sense the elf anywhere, and to him that was strange.

He never realized how close the poor fellow felt, he was like a rope that tugged at his conscious when he got near this home. Harry decided to knock, then paused, and then figured that it wouldn't hurt. It took a moment to make that decision, but afterwards he trembled at the thought of who might be awaiting him.

What if the Death Eaters had somehow managed to infiltrate this place too? That idea did not sit well with Harry; it wasn't like it was that hard to do, not with all their resources, and Snape telling Lord Voldemort all their secrets. Harry still had a difficult time grasping that the man had been on their side all along, or at least, that is what he liked to believe.

Harry waited, and no one came out. He turned the knob on the door and let himself into the home. It was black and dreary, just as he expected it to be. Mrs. Black, naturally, didn't know what an interior decorator was, and if she did she would probably have killed any who got near her home.

The orphan's entrance didn't trigger any alarms, which was strange, since the place was known for its expensive wards that kept intruders at bay. Maybe someone just didn't charge them?

After a moment he looked around and saw that there were foot prints, muddy foot prints, on the floor. Harry followed them, suspicious of whomever they could belong to, for whoever it was did not leave or clean their shoes at the door, and the Painted Lady, Sirius's mother, had this unfortunate habit of yelling at anyone who made a mess of her home.

To be fair, she yelled at just about anyone- it probably wouldn't matter if they were Mr. Clean, with enough suds to tsunami the place into a sterilized hospital ward.

"Hurry, his family could return any moment." Voices echoed through the hallway. Harry could sense the panic, and worry in the tone. But it was the kind of worry a villain would produce, when someone was about to catch them in the act.

Whoever was in the house, was not supposed to be here. "What do you think it would look like, if that fool of a son showed up this instant?" A grouchy voice said.

Harry walked silently, getting closer to the voices. He put a spell on his feet to ward off the noise and moved faster, to reach the two voices before they had a chance to escape. Whatever the two were doing, it probably couldn't be good. Of course, many people in the wizarding world were up to no good.

Aside from that, this was his house, and if intruders were in his home, then it meant that perhaps an Order member was in trouble. Even if most of them were probably six feet under.

"We have been trying for the past hour, why don't we just kill him? The Master said that would be the best option, if he couldn't be convinced to join our cause." Harry hid behind a couch. In the living room he could see two hooded figures, both in black. The skull mask probably didn't mean 'beware of poison,' so Harry easily guessed who they were.

There was a tall man sitting on a chair, in the center of the room, gagged and bound with rusty metallic chains. His eyes were shadowed, and there was blood seeping down from his nose and dripping onto the floor.

Another mess Kreacher would have to clean up.

Harry reached up around the side of the couch, to get a better angle when he shot the two down. Snape's slicing hex was about to come in handy. The Potter briefly groaned thinking how all the Dark spells he knew came directly, or indirectly, from the greasy git. Serpensortia and sectumsempra, Snape probably had a fetish for S-sound spells.

"The Dark Lord is not a patient man, Carrow," the taller of the two said. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting. If we don't return to him within the hour, there will be trouble. I, for one, would not wish his vengeance, nor his wrath upon me. If we cannot complete this task he has given us, if this fool of a man does not join us, we should simply kill him."

The atmosphere in the room darkened. "But he is one of us; Orion Black, he is of Noble blood, why do we do this when it is our cause to bring families such as his back into the wizarding world? I do not like this, Dolohov, I do not like this at all. Say what you will about the Dark Lord's wrath, but to kill a political supporter-,"

"He is not a supporter of our cause, fool, he only cares about his own. His agenda can shift like the tides of the ocean. I will not sink with the ship, we cut him now, we cut him down, and we leave his family to the dogs. His fortune, we may not be able to access, not completely, but he does have three unwed nieces." The man smiled. Harry could not see it but he knew the type, the kind who fed off the anguish and misery of others, and grinned in glee at their pain. Just like Uncle Vernon.

"What a coincidence that this House happens to contain three orphan girls, each at the ripe age to join our cause." He hovered over the bleeding man, who resembled an ancient Sirius, yet angry, bitter, and broken, even more so than the Sirius Harry knew. "Don't you think it would be marvelous, if say, Orion Black, the Head of the Black Family were to die while casting those protective wards he is so fond of, or, hit by lightning, fell off the roof?" His partner did not look happy at these running comments. "The Prophet would not bat an eye, considering the man's strange behavior as of late. Don't you think, Mr. Black?"

Harry tried to shift through his memories, seeing if the name sounded familiar. Then he realized it did, that was the name of Sirius's father. Sirius told him during his fifth year about the man who created defenses in his own home to ward off against the Dark Lord, when he realized how far the evil man would go to achieve power.

Orion Black died of some strange accident while Sirius was in school, or maybe he died during the same year as Regulus? Harry wasn't so sure, but what he did know was that the man was being broken down, weakened, such that the Imperius Curse would be easier to cast on him.

The fact that this aged wizard was able to hold off his attackers so long was astonishing, and judging by how much blood the old man had lost, as it poured to the floor and slipped through the cracks of the hardwood, Harry assumed he probably wouldn't live very much longer, or if he did, would live life as a sack of dry skin.

If Harry didn't do anything, that is.

But he was too intrigued to face off with his foes without a bit more information. For all Harry knew this was just some elaborate trap, and Sirius did mention that most of his family had gone dark, so helping one of Sirius's family members might not be a good idea, if Harry wanted to live that is. _Forgive me, sir, but I don't think I can trust you. Not just yet._

"Can we move this along, we'll try the Imperius another twenty times, if we can achieve control over this man, his money and resources would be a great asset to us," the shorter of the two, Carrow, said. "I would not like to kill an old wizard, not like this." He stepped behind Orion.

"Imperio!"

Harry watched in fascination as the room brightened with the light of the Imperius Curse, only to darken to the same nasty glow that illuminated its puppet.

Orion Black opened his dark eyes and stared ahead of him, his shaggy black hair crowning his forehead and going down to the back of his cloak. He looked around the room, his eyes desperate, searching for something, or someone to help him.

It was then that his pleading eyes found Harry's own, looking back at him. At that moment Harry knew he had to attack. "Reducto!"

Harry jumped out like a cat, landing in a crouch as the curse fired at his enemies. He crawled to another couch, hiding behind it.

The Blasting Curse was one of the few spells they went over during the DA meetings, it was useful, though not very effective unless the caster was close to his opponent, since the spell itself wasn't very accurate and caused a lot of damage. The real danger was that it could easily backfire at the caster.

Harry realized that too late as a piece of shrapnel stuck him in the arm and put a gash on his right hand. _Why does this always happen? For once can I not be hurt trying to save someone?_

Harry rolled out of the way of a sickly green curse that almost took his head off, and instead went to the back of the room, and dissolved a table. "Who is that? I thought you said there was no one in the house!" The shorter man said, sounding panicked. Harry guessed he should be considering that the two were worried that re-enforcements were going to arrive at this place any time soon, or at least the man's family would be here, which was strange considering that Sirius's family had been dead for years.

"Apparently there was a spy, in the house, after all. We can't let him escape, lest he alerts the rest of them of our plans," Dolohov said. "Come out, or the old man will be no more. You only place him in more harm the longer you spend fighting us. Do you want us to torture him? We can do that, we have done it before. If you truly wish to retrieve Mr. Black, you best come out, coward."

"Not bloody likely," Harry muttered. He wasn't stupid enough to fall for a dumb baiting trick, he was scared of course, and he wouldn't just jump into a situation and get himself killed trying to save himself and the other person, whoever it was, not after all that had happened to him.

You would think that being in so many dangerous situations would have taught a boy a lesson he wouldn't ever forget, considering all the people who died for his cause, trying to keep him safe.

Harry ran up the stairs, avoiding red curses that split the staircase to pieces; like knives cutting through pieces of wood, it wasn't a clean cut, more like jagged rough trims that sent shrapnel on his back. Harry turned to avoid a giant wave of lightning that burst a few of the light bulbs as the static discharge overpowered the fuse, and set the ceiling on fire.

The two men chased after the boy, while the man tied to chair just screamed through his gag, at the fire that was quickly consuming his house.

Harry opened the door to the Black Family tree and found a room full of dangerous artifacts. He used a summoning spell to bring him a sword and then blew that sword to other side of the hall, where one of the men had half his arm impaled by the blade. "Watch out, that was a powerful Repulsion Charm, no mere student can pull that." Dolohov created a shield. "We can assume it isn't that good for nothing Sirius Black, it must be a family guard, or an associate that we are not aware of- he is too strong to be a spy."

Harry sent a stream of fire into the hall, hearing the yelp from the two men, then dumped oil out to make the flames larger. He sent a different flame spell that wrapped around the edges of the stair case of another, which lead to the third floor, and used the heat as a distraction to jump downstairs; hoping that one of them wouldn't take a shot at his back as he fell back to the first floor.

The two men were again on his trail, but Harry wouldn't go down that easily and now that Orion Black was in front of him, he decided to untie the man and let him make an escape. "Here, sir, please go and find safety elsewhere. Do you happen to have a Portkey anywhere?"

The man nodded, still looking shaky, his bloodshot eyes strayed to a portrait hanging on the wall. Harry ran for it and brought it back to the man. "Sir, please, we have to go!"

The man opened his mouth to speak and touched the Portkey with his trembling fingers, he said words Harry couldn't hear, since at that moment the boy was flung out the window by a powerful Bludgeoning.

Harry looked through the hole in the wall, his body feeling the effects of several broken ribs and saw that Orion Black had ported out of there. "Blast! That was my ticket out of here as well," he muttered. Harry couldn't blame the man since the two were running towards him as soon as he was battered to the side of the street, but a little more bravery from the old Black would have been helpful.

Harry looked around for anything to use as a weapon, and finding nothing that could be of service, decided to run outside of the wards around Grimmauld Place, until he had enough strength to Apparate out of the area.

A teenaged boy, wearing robes, running away from two equally crazy looking men, also wearing robes, was probably going to attract the attention of the authorities very soon, if not this instant, considering there was a car with a fat police man stepping out, holding his baton.

"Stop! Thief!"

Who said that these days?

Harry ran around the fat man, and prayed that the two Death Eaters would not simply curse the fat man, plow through him, to get to Harry. Though he shouldn't have expected any less, and he felt trickles of blood splash on the back of his neck, meaning the man had been turned into pulp right behind him.

"Dolohov, this isn't part of the plan! Let's leave!" The shorter man screeched. "We are breaking enough secrecy rules! There are enough witnesses to connect this to a conspiracy!"

"Don't you get it? We cannot leave without at least showing some kind of result, I do not want to feel the taste of his torture curses upon me. If you do then that is your fault, I myself will not be treated like a common foot soldier. I will apprehend this enemy and bring it back to the Master."

Harry didn't stop to look behind him, the more distance he could make between him and his would-be captors, the better. He did, however, warn various people to run, while he himself, looking like he just left an asylum, did just that.

People were looking at him strangely, and not many did as was instructed and swiftly paid the price with a green light hitting their chest, or a powerful hex ripping their heads off. All the while Harry just dodged and moved out of the way. If he could say one thing about Oliver Wood, it would be that he was thorough in training Harry to avoid Bludgers.

Apparently Quidditch really wasn't such a waste of time, since it taught you to react swiftly to anything that was coming towards you at a hundred meters per second.

"He keeps moving! Dolohov, you must have something! The boy is far too quick for his own good, is he under some kind of spell?" Harry mused how even Dudley had helped him achieve this speed.

Harry-hunting made his legs move about the same speed as a sprinter; the only difference was if he stopped he would get a half dozen kids twice his weight wailing on him till a teacher came by and told them to go bother someone else.

Harry figured it probably wasn't the most fun game in the world, that was for sure, but it did build character, while breaking down bones. _No, time to think about that now._ The teen took a turn into an alley, and climbed over a fence.

The two grown men were at his heels, instead of climbing the fence they simply blew it apart and continued to chase him. Harry felt stupid for not thinking of that; so much for his plan. Luckily, he could feel that his power was returning to him, the power he felt from being near the Black House. If he just held on a bit more he might have enough strength to Apparate.

_Just a bit longer. _But where would he go? Death Eaters were everywhere, and no place was safe. He slipped on some stray garbage, but pulled himself up in time and shoved himself into the crack of a very narrow alley, hoping that Dolohov and Carrow would think he went another direction.

His plan succeeded, fortunately, and he crawled out of the narrow passage and ran in the other direction. "Dolohov, he is over there!" _Well, that plan didn't work out so well. _

But it didn't have to, because at that moment Harry knew he could Apparate again, and he knew exactly where to go. He pushed the magic out of the core of his body and imagined the destination, he chanted the three magical mental exercises when one is about to teleport and popped out of there, and thought he would be all right, but then a hand reached him, and was pulled into the same tight squeeze Harry was forced to go through. He could see the smaller man, his angry face, almost like some crazed weasel, looking at him with satisfaction. "I got you, boy."

The teen was glad that it wasn't Dolohov. He pushed his energy through to the man, while they remained in a vast moving world of matter and particles; only when they reappeared in the real world did Harry pull out his wand and below one of the most dangerous curses he knew.

"Sectumsempra!"

The man's arm almost came off, which said a lot since it still had a sword gash from the previous fight, sadly it wasn't his wand arm, and the man didn't seem deterred. Harry could see the circulatory system underneath the slashed arm, the dribble of blood that was slowly flowing from the cut.

He suspected the man had some magical protection against cutting hexes and such, and Harry was about to be proven correct as he saw Carrow push his wand into this wound and heal it.

Only it did not heal. _That's not going to work, Snape's spell has only one cure. _Harry didn't get a chance to gloat, as he looked around him, seeing the frozen people who just watched the two in horror. He had teleported to Diagon Alley in hopes of hiding himself, but alas, it seemed that the place was packed.

He didn't get a chance to wonder how strange that was, since the Dark Lord was about, and the last he had been here it was like a grave town. The short man sent a blue hex that slashed the ground beneath Harry. The boy suspected that he was going for more, but with his balance shifting, with the dead weight of an arm, the man could only hope that he would tire out the boy before he had lost any more blood.

The cut Harry gave him was growing rapidly. "What is this curse? Why won't it heal? Who are you, boy, what kind of dark spell is this? You can't be one of Dumbledore's. He would never allow someone so vicious into his fold."

Carrow caught Harry with a spell that paralyzed his non-wand arm, Harry ducked into a nearby store. He looked around and noticed it was the book store he bought his school supplies, it even had the same skinny man who had gotten him Hagrid's monster book in his third year, though he didn't recall the man being as afraid of Harry as he was right now.

Harry ducked behind a shelf as an explosion of flames ignited the desks of the shop, where people would rest to look over the literature they wanted to buy. "Curse you, stop running!"

The youth rolled into a crowd of girls, who looked at him with dread. One of the girls, a short, somewhat plump lass, with red hair shrieked when Harry pushed out a spell that flung the girls to the other side of the store, where they crumbled onto the floor. "Prewitt, watch out!" someone shouted, though Harry didn't know who.

It was just in time too, as a jet of blue fire covered the place the girls had just been standing around, and the flames, unlike the last one, seemed to have a liquid feel to them, since they dripped into the papers of the books like hot molten lava and vaporized it into melting powder.

Harry knew he couldn't keep dodging for long, since he was only putting the people around him in further danger and decided to go for the offensive when the man's guard was down. The problem was that his opponent was older and probably much more adept at Dark spells then Harry, so he would have to outsmart the man.

Harry went through the list of spells he knew in his head, and found that he was a short a good deal. Aside from a disarming spell, a few paralyzing spells, a cutter, and the Imperius curse, Harry didn't really know anything that might actually help him.

He knew a few transfigurations, but those wouldn't help him, unless he somehow combined them with a spell he already knew!

While the man was blasting the book shelves, sending tons of people fleeing from the rampage, Harry crawled through the mess, and into the back of the store where he turned the splinters of wood into needles. Careful not to be seen, he levitated them into the sky, right above the man and held his breath, hoping Carrow wouldn't discover anything. It wouldn't take much for the older man to simply look up and notice a dozen long spikes coming down at him, with the acceleration of 9.8 meters a second.

Good thing physics would come in handy today, not that it took much math to deduce that if something long and pointy fell from the sky, you were a shish-kebab, minus the fire.

"You, girl, tell me where he is!" The man summoned one of the girls Harry had blasted to the walls, the one with an extraordinarily large bust, now that he had time to observe her from his vantage point. "He saved you? Why? Why would he do that? Tell me, girl, where is he? I swear if you don't start talking, you're about to feel what the flames of phoenix taste like." He shoved the wand up to her throat, threatening to jam it in there.

Harry gripped his wand, he wouldn't make a move, but he wanted so much to save the girl. The teenager started to sob, and Harry almost lost his nerve right there.

Girls who cried always got to him, it touched a special spot in his heart, despite the fact that most of his romantic life consisted of girls either trying to make him jealous or girls outright calling him an arse, which he found unfair. He wondered if Cho even counted as a girlfriend? Heck, did Ginny?

"Useless! Stop babbling, girl, did I ask about your day? Did I ask if you felt sad about your situation? Do you think I care if I have to kill you? Would crying make me torture you any less? Can't you see I am trying to find someone and you wasting my time is going to make me really, really, angry!" Before the man could cast a spell to sever the teen's neck, Harry let go of the levitation charm holding the needles up in the air, and allowed them to fall onto the man's head.

One of the needles caught the girl on the hip, and she clutched it, tears falling down her face. Harry noticed she wore a Hogwarts dress, with a prefects badge, he guessed her age now to be near his own, though she looked a lot older with the ridiculous pair of bulges, pushing through her dress shirt.

A red stunner toppled the man to the floor, but not completely since it wasn't powerful enough to send him into shock. The man drew his last breath and sent a green ray of killing curse, in Harry's direction, and Harry, for a moment, almost didn't make it.

He didn't have to, since a book shelve caved in to block the beam.

The boy jumped over the shelf and surveyed the damage done to the place. There were people now coming out from hiding, and they watched him with fright. Harry couldn't blame them, since it wasn't every day that two wizards, wielding weapons to kill, duked it out in some random book store.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked the plump-looking witch. He promptly realized that she wasn't as fat as she originally appeared. Her waist was somewhat thin, and her legs, at least the one that wasn't so damaged by a needle that hit it, were long. She had brown eyes, even if one of them was closed, since the man gave her a firm bruise at that particular point.

Harry removed his cloak and wrapped it around the girl, since the needles had ripped some of the fabric around her own. Her pink, flushed skin was covered in sweat. Whoever she was, she seemed to get nervous very easily, though it could just be the near-death experience, rather than her endocrine system itself.

"You there! Halt! You are charged with suspicion of Dark Arts, as well as public endangerment, unhand that maiden and drop your wand, good sir!" A tall man, wearing Auror's robes, pointed his black wand at Harry. Harry did as he was told and hoped that more Aurors would arrive here soon, to clean up any other messes that might come there way.

Dolohov was still an issue and if Harry had to guess, that man would be on him soon. But then a thought occurred to him: weren't the Aurors under the control of Lord Voldemort?

As the tall man, whose hair Harry couldn't decipher, since he wore a long pointy hat, came closer, Harry reached for this wand and sent a stunning spell at the law official. The man fell backwards, in shock, and Harry picked up the Auror's wand.

He turned to face everyone in the book store; if they were afraid of him before, they were practically wetting themselves now. It probably didn't help that he was covered in blood from the men Dolohov had turned to pulp in a previous battle, and the fact that he stood over a voluptous, or at least that's what it looked like, girl, like an angry demon, wasn't going to make them feel any more secure that these people weren't suddenly going to strike.

"Look, I am not trying to harm anyone." Harry tried to say this in as passive as a voice possible, but he found that there was a raspy tone to his sound, that even made himself shiver. All of that running must have done something to his lungs. "Please, believe me, I don't want to hurt any of you."

He looked around to see if anyone would suddenly reach for their wands, and wasn't surprised when he saw a trio of girls in the back corner, each with blond, black, and brown hair.

The eldest of the three, a tall girl with curly black hair that went down to her waist, sent a hex his way. Harry blocked it with a shield, and reflected it back at the caster, who dodged. Her sister, who appeared to be a year younger than her, with brown, hair grabbed the youngest girl, the blond, and dived in for cover. The last Potter didn't want to suddenly pick a fight with some girl trying to protect her family from disaster, but he didn't have a choice, since the girl was good, really precise.

He turned back and saw a group of boys, in what looked like Gryffindor robes, jump out from another shelf and fling purple slug hexes his way. Harry blocked those as well and sent Snape's Slashing Hex at their direction, directing the slashing curse at a chandelier that fell on nearby book shelves and causing a domino effect, which left the group of boys scattering.

"Sirius, help!" One of the boys' foot got caught on a plank of wood, and the book shelf was going to crush him to death. Harry sent another slashing hex at the shelf and destroyed it before it could crush the boy, who, Harry now realized, looked exactly like a teenage Remus, from Snape's memory, only this one was much younger.

As Harry saved Remus, the pale black-haired witch had got a hit at Harry's arm. The Potter saw his arm start to gush blood out from his pores. At first it was happening slowly, then the pressure started to build and Harry found streams of coppery red liquid flowing from the gash.

He looked up to see the girl, her eyes speaking volumes about how much she was detesting this. If she originally wanted this to protect her family, now it was turning into something more sinister. Another curse came out of her wand, only this one was one a spiralling blue flame, that Harry had to shield against, but realized he didn't have enough power to really do any blocking.

Running out of the way, he jumped through the window of the shop, letting glass scatter to the four winds. He turned around to see the tall girl following him, her curly black hair bouncing in each step. Harry was glad his robes were still on the redhead, since it gave him the maneuverability he needed to run down Diagon Alley without being impeded.

"Someone stop him! That man is a criminal!" The tall girl screamed. She sent a stunner at Harry, which missed, as usual, but hit a little girl along the road. The black haired witch paused to unparalyze the girl, but continued to follow him, with a sort of feral hunger in her eyes.

Dark Arts has this way of corrupting people. The lure of using powerful spells will eventually warp the minds of the casters. The more one lets it control them, take possession of them, the more it will enter their soul and corrupt both their morals and consciousness.

If with great power, there is great responsibility, then Harry suspected this girl is slowly losing, since the spells she cast were becoming darker and darker each passing moment.

If he thought things couldn't get any worse, then Harry was sadly mistaken. Dolohov, the man who was the real threat here, suddenly stood in the entrance of Knockturn Alley, holding what looked like an item used for tracking. Harry suspected that it was one of Borgin's inventions since he recalled running into it during his 6th year summer, when he followed Malfoy into that shop.

"Stop following me, Miss, there are Death Eaters about!" Harry sent a stunner at the girl, who reflexively dogged it with smooth grace, whirled her wand toward his feet and transfigured the grass into vines.

Harry jumped out from the thorn creations and blasted the vines, then quickly pulled off a freezing charm, and reverse summoned the shards at the girl. The vines came back to life when they hit her and wrapped her in their green wiry embrace.

The bleeding teen was hit by a blue curse, and turned to see the group of boys who tried to apprehend him in the shop. It appeared that they were more than just familiar to the boys in Snape's memory, they were identical!

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and, of course, James Potter. The four of them were behind the black haired girl, though Sirius gave her a vicious glare before running around her to try and wrap Harry in what looked like a length of metallic net.

It was a child's spell, one for grappling harmless animals that were loose in the neighborhood and Harry didn't bother blocking it. Instead he sent it back to the four of them, enlarged it along the way, and then froze the four of them in a stunner.

In the meantime he realized that Dolohov had already rushed through the mob of screaming people, to try and get to him, and was going to turn this place into ashes if Harry didn't do anything quickly.

He turned to see the girl's two sisters, right beside her, and felt the dark powers the girl showed moments ago start to fade. The brown haired girl, who looked suspiciously like Nymphadora, minus the pink hair, looked at the scene puzzled at the sight of a Death Eater running towards the young Potter, with a flame whip.

"Look out!" the smallest of the three, a blond haired girl, with blue eyes pointed to the stream of screaming red flames. Harry ducked and shielded himself with a stronger shield than the Protego. It didn't last very long, but the whip gashed the side of his chest, letting blood fall to the ground.

"We have to do something," the brown haired girl said. "I don't think he is a Death Eater, Bella, what are you doing?"

Bellatrix Black was many things, but conflicted was one thing she was not. Immediately she put her wand back into her black robes and looked at the scene with detachment. "Dromeda, get Cissy out of here. I'll meet the two of you at Grimmauld Place." She looked at the paralyzed boys on the sidewalk. She sighed. "And get Sirius out of here, as well. Uncle would be very displeased if we just left our dear cousin to rot."

"Shouldn't we help him?" Narcissa Black asked, in a soft voice, fitting of a girl just entering puberty. "He's hurt, badly. There is a lot of blood flowing from him. If he isn't a Death Eater, then we should try and help, shouldn't we?" She looked up to her ebony haired sister, who didn't say anything.

"Bella, what are you planning?" Dromeda asked, afraid of what the girl might say.

Andromeda Black had her suspicions about her older sister for the last few years now. She didn't think her older sister was a Death Eater, not to her face at least. Narcissa told her one day that she saw Bellatrix talking to someone named Igor Karkaroff. Normally that wouldn't be that surprising, since she was a social climber, but what got to her was the conversation about "a New World Order."

The Dark Lord was a rising power in England, one that the Ministry was doing very little to prevent. Her uncle once told her in secret that he was afraid that many of the followers had infiltrated the political infrastructure and were slowly taking over.

If the Dark Lord wasn't stopped, he feared that all of magical England would someday go into anarchy, destroying itself from the very core.

"Dromeda," Narcissa said. The small girl tugged at the brunette's robes. "Can't you do something?"

Narcissa Black, a third year Slytherin, and the youngest of Druella's daughters, was afraid. She wasn't afraid of the boy, of course, there were half a dozen psychos such as him running around trying to fight the evil Dark Lord, no, instead she worried about her sister. Who might or might not be a member of his Death Eaters. There are few things more dangerous than an enemy that you cannot see, and she is starting to see her sister change, and not for the better.

She was sure she could at least trust her middle sister, Andromeda, since she was the most levelheaded among the three. She was torn in a world between going with her older sister and caring for her younger. Bellatrix used to be the pillar of the family, but as the years went on, Andromeda was starting to fill that role.

"Cissy, be silent, and let's go." She reached for her little sister, and ran back to where Sirius was. She unfroze him and his friends, then directed them to run. She turned back to see Bella, whose face was cold, and tried not to think what the girl was planning. If she was really Lord Voldemort's, then she could only assume that some accident was about to kill the poor boy.

The world was indeed a cruel place for Harry Potter. His body continued to lose blood, and no one was coming to his aid. He saw the girl from before just standing there, watching, waiting, but for what? Dolohov had battered him through the wall of a shop, and more people were running out from inside

Harry got up and shot another stream of flames at the man, who easily shooed them away.

There was very little he could do to this person, and he knew it. It was then that something happened that might have come into his favor. A team of Aurors finally arrived, and made the monster of a man leave.

Harry had just long enough to look at who had rescued him, the face of the gaunt man Orion Black, before he fell into darkness by some spell an Auror sent.

* * *

When Harry wakes up, the first thing he notices is the room. He has been here before, many times in fact. He tries to find any other occupants beside him, but fortunately there isn't anyone in here. His leg feels heavier than usual and he looks down to see a cast attached to it.

Getting up, the boy realizes that it will take a lot more effort to stand upright. As he tries for a second attempt, the door opens, and a girl walks in. In the dark it is hard to tell who it is, but Harry is more than a little grateful. The girl whispers into his ear that he has to walk downstairs and meet her uncle. The boy thanks her and leaves to do just that, limping all the way there.

There are rows of elfheads lining the walls, each more grotesque then the next. Harry wonders why anyone would keep this, but understands that people in the wizarding world have their own tastes. The staircase looks repaired, in fact the damage that was done to the place only hours ago does not seem to be there. At all.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the boy he paralyzed in the street, Sirius, and there is very little doubt in Harry's mind that this boy is his old godfather. There is also little doubt that the time and place is not his own.

Harry knows that he must have traveled back in time. It is the only explanation. How or why is just secondary. The important thing: what is he going to do about it?

* * *

Orion Black was not an evil man, not in the sense that is stereotypical of the character trait. But he was a greedy man, one who wanted everything: family, fortune, and prestige. But who doesn't? If one had the power and resources he had, wouldn't they also reach for the top? Even if the world crashed around him, he would fight his way to the top of the hierarchy, taking the title of the minister of magic, and beyond. That was just the type of people the Blacks were.

Or at least _were_ being the key definition.

The once great and terrible house had been reduced to him, his nieces, and his children. His wife was sick and falling more ill by the day. His health was not entirely bad, but neither was it as great as it once was. He knew he didn't have much time left in this world, but he couldn't just settle for retirement, no, not him. Not when a man hellbent on taking everything he had worked for was on the loose.

Orion would never admit it, but the boy who walked in front of him had saved him that day, and by extension, had saved them all.

"Hello," Harry said. The boy sat down and took a cup of tea offered to him by a house elf. The elf belonged to Narcissa, his name was-

He looked up at the man in front of him. "I gather we have much to talk about?"

Harry gave an explanation as to how he found the house, one that was hastily made, and had too many holes. Orion didn't completely buy the story, but was willing to give the boy who saved him the benefit of the doubt. Harry finished his story of how he got to the alley, and promptly stunned by the Aurors.

"I took you out of there, you know, the HQ that is." Orion had to pull some major bribes to do just that, but he had the resources. "I owe you that much." He owed him much more, and Harry knew it.

"So what happens now?" Harry was afraid. He didn't know anyone in this time, his parents were children and the Dark Lord was more powerful than ever. "What do you plan to do with me?" He shifted in his seat, and tried not to stare at the walking figures in the hall.

Orion sighed. "I am not sure, to be honest." He wasn't about to leave this boy out there, for the crows to eat. The boy had gotten into some trouble interfering with the Dark lord and Orion also owed him a life debt. The longer the boy was close to him, the more chances he would have to pay that debt back, and perhaps with interest. "For now, since you have no place to go, you may stay with us."

* * *

At night Harry lay in the bed, looking at the ceiling. He heard a knock on his door, and decided to pretend to be asleep. The lights were off so it shouldn't have been hard to fool anyone. Slowly his thoughts were drifting into darkness. That is, until his door creaked open, and quiet footsteps came into his room. "He doesn't look so strong," an arrogant childish voice said. "He couldn't have saved father, I refuse to believe it."

"That is not what Uncle tells us, Regulus," a girl answered him; she sounded sad. "Bella doesn't want to come inside, I'm not sure why."

"Of course not, she is a part of-"

"Shut it!" Another person walked into the room. "Please, don't talk about her, not today. I think we should leave, he doesn't look well. You saw him in the alley, he was covered in so much blood, and he was fighting so very much, perhaps we can ask him some questions tomorrow. Narcissa, Sirius, Regulus, c'mon, let's go."

Harry turned around while they left to see the same girl, with brown hair, who resembled her future daughter. She stared at him for a moment, surprised, then slowly closed the door.

Andromeda Black walked away, thinking about the entire situation. This boy would be treated as a guest in her home until her uncle said otherwise. Up until now only her family had lived here, and visitors were few due to his paranoia, and rightly so considering what happened today.

She walked into her sister's room. Bellatrix did not look happy.

* * *

"I have to go." The girl didn't even bother looking at him. Instead she closed the door, and locked it. The teen didn't expect her to do any less, considering who she was. The door then unlocked, and another person looked through the door, almost shy, she was.

"Sorry about that." The girl walked into the room, and looked around for anything to tie up the wounds. "We don't have much, but we'll do what we can. None of us are known for our healing spells, sadly."

The teen didn't mind. He let the blond wrap his arm in a bandage. "Thank you." It was awkward at first, since he was completely shirtless, but the blond eventually got used to it. "You are good at this." His distracted eyes were peering at another person outside of the door, who was scowling at the two. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

The girl nodded. "I have a friend a year ahead of me, Severus, who tells me that, sometimes." Harry looked at her, to see whether she was serious. Harry found it hard to believe that a man as antisocial as Snape could ever have friends. "There you are, we're done here."

"I appreciate this, really, I do." He smiled, shyly. He wasn't very comfortable with the people around him, they were just so familiar, yet so unfamiliar at the same time. A boy walked into the doorstep and watched him. The boy smiled, and walked into the room.

Harry was amazed to see such a small Sirius; he barely reached his shoulder, but considering that he was only 13 or 14 years of age, it shouldn't have surprised him. "Hi, I am-"

"Sirius, I know." The boy was taken a back, but jumped back into the flow of things. "Right, I guess someone told you before. Anyway, what is your name?"

"Harry, just Harry." He was expecting a last name, but he wasn't going to get one. He sat right beside the ebony haired teen.

"No really, what's your last name? I don't recall ever seeing you before, but you sort of look familiar."

Sirius Black, for all his cheerfulness, was utterly confused. The teen in front of him could easily pass for James's older brother. He knew that Mister Potter had a habit of cheating on his wife, but the idea of a bastard was a bit disturbing. It really put things into perspective, but then again, he could just be over thinking things.

"Where are my pants? I need them, now." Andromeda walked into the room, carrying just that. "I have repaired them, be grateful." Harry nodded, and directed everyone to leave while he put them on. After doing this he walked out and met them in the hall. The boy slipped downstairs and the crowd followed him there.

"I have things to take care of, I'll be back tonight." He smiled. "Thank you."

Andromeda nodded, and the other two sisters didn't answer. Bellatrix , however, clutched her wand tightly. Her eyes narrowed and she put her wand into her pocket.

He walked out the door, and Apparated to the Ministry, where he would spend the day doing tests, and filling out forms.

"Thank you for this temporary ID, I couldn't ever pay you back for this." That was a lie, he could always release the man from the life debt. There was a moment of silence between the two, Orion thinking that the boy might release him, but then he knew that there could be another cost associated with that. Something the boy might ask, something that he might not be willing to pay.

Orion Black took a moment to look the boy up and down. He grimaced, almost savagely. Then smiled slightly. "Potter, the resemblance is monstrous." He touched Harry's face, and looked at both angles. "You are no doubt a bastard." Harry scowled. "From who, I have no idea but just by looking at you I can see James, or Charles, written all over you."

Harry didn't respond to this. James Potter was his father, but their resemblance shouldn't be so identical in this point in his life. Ultimately, the two of them would be the same height by the time he became an adult, or at least from what he had seen of ghost James. The two of them did not look as similar as he would like to believe, but there was no doubt that Harry James Potter was James Potter's boy.

Orion walked out of the door, and Harry followed. He looked back to see someone coming down the steps. The eyes of the person were harsh, but at the same time worried. It was a plump woman with long black hair tied to a bun, wearing a black set of robes. She started to scowl when he saw that Harry was staring at her, not knowing that it wasn't because of her beauty. That quality had left her long ago.

Sirius's mother didn't know what to say to the boy who had saved her husband, but had caused such a large scandal when her husband brought him back to their house. The boy was battered beyond repair, on the surface, but looked salvageable when a team of healers came by and got rid of the worst of the damage.

His face was heavily scarred, and the wound on his left cheek was dreadfully deep. She didn't like looking at it, the boy looked absolutely mad, and the chunk of hair that was singed by flames was not making him look any better.

She went into the kitchen, noticing that the teen's gaze was still on her. "Why do you look at me?" She didn't turn around, just stated the fact.

The boy didn't answer, and that unnerved her. Instead, he turned around and left out the door, following her husband.

She sighed when he left. The boy's eyes were unsettling to say the least.

Harry was transported to Gringott's, where he had a bank account set up for him. When the blood test showed that he really was a Potter, Orion looked deeply uncomfortable. They didn't say a word as an account was settled and he left after all of his documents were in order.

Orion let him wander the alley, telling him not to cause a scene. Harry promised that he wouldn't and thanked the man for the money that was lent to him. He bumped into a group of girls, who asked him how he got his scars, but backed away when Harry explained his situation.

Harry picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet and found that there was indeed an article written about him, just as he expected. The article didn't say if he was a hero, or villain, as impassive as the news was supposed to be. He sighed in relief that they had not demonized him, which would make his life at this time much easier.

With the money Orion had given him, he purchased a fair number of Seventh year school supplies. Once he was done he decided to have some ice cream, where he overheard a group of girls gossiping about cute boys in school, mainly Rudy Lestrange and Lucy Malfoy. Apparently both were in Sixth year and very eligible bachelors.

Harry sighed at this news and lost his appetite.

He spent the rest of the day in a Quidditch supply store looking at the latest models. He met a shy, tall boy with red hair, who seemed eager to talk to him about the latest in broom technology, which did not impress Harry in the least. However, when he left the shop, Harry found that he liked the boy, who seemed to be the same age as Harry, a year older than Bellatrix, and in a different grade than Lucius Malfoy.

"Arthur." Harry nodded to the teen and decided to have a meal before getting back to number 12 Grimmauld Place.

* * *

"H-hello." A shy voice from behind Harry spooked the teen. He turned around to see the same girl he saved yesterday. The girl's red hair was almost flame red and she had an allure about her that seemed all too familiar. He tried to reel through his mind to see who she could be, since her enormous bosom was something he had definitely seen before.

She thanked him for saving her that day, and asked what his name was. He told him his name was Harry Potter, which got a puzzled look from her, and she told him her name. "I am Molly, Molly Prewitt." Harry made a note to remember that name; the girl was in Gryffindor, and he might be going back there, if Orion could arrange schooling at Hogwarts.

Harry Potter was tired of war, and chaos. If he could live through this time period in peace, without interfering with the past, that would be for the best. Before he left the girl gave him a big hug and ran to meet her friends, making the boy feel embarrassed.

Before he left for home, or the closest thing he had to a home, he made a stop to pick up his robes, where a greasy thirteen-year-old was going through an extraordinary array of filthy robes. Harry took pity on the child and tossed him a bag of money. The big-nosed teen looked at Harry in shock, but quickly took the bag like some weasel, hoarding it for all it was worth.

Harry rolled his eyes and Apparated out of the alley.

* * *

"Are you certain you are ready for your interview with Albus?" Orion asked. He had faith in the boy, but he had to admit that Harry Potter was beyond suspicious- his past, his present, and even his future were a mystery. "If you make a mistake, you could be making yourself a very powerful, very dangerous, enemy. I don't like this plan, I don't even understand it to be honest. If you wanted we could have hired a few tutors and you would just need to pass your NEWTS."

Harry explained to Orion that he didn't even attend his final year in school, so it wouldn't be an issue of tutoring, it would be an issue of missing a giant part of his education. "I will be all right, sir, I'll try not to take too long."

He walked into the room, which hadn't changed since the last time he was here. Only this time, there were fewer destroyed artifacts lying around.

There he met the Headmaster and explained that he needed to finish his final year of class, and then he would be off. Dumbledore was more than happy to let Harry in, provided that he answer a few questions. The boy did as instructed. Then he was asked about his past, and where he was living, and questions that he had a large suspicion revolved around Dark Arts.

At the end of the interview, Harry asked the man why he was letting him into Hogwarts, with a war going on. "I read the news, dear boy, if you are indeed a Death Eater, then you have indeed fooled us all, considering what you did to Carrow, whose capture aided us more than you can imagine."

Albus Dumbledore watched the boy leave, with a frown on his face. There was little to nothing known about Harry Potter, other than the fact that he resembled Charles Potter, or James. He remembered his old friend's fascination with the opposite sex, and it wouldn't have surprised Dumbledore to discover that he had a few bastards here and there.

But to see one with the man's last name, this boy was asking for trouble.

He went to the fire place and summoned his second in command, Moody, and asked him to find everything he could on Harry Potter. If this boy really was a Potter, then the Dark lord had surpassed his expectations in bringing him into the scene.

Already his battle with the enemies of the light was bringing him some fame, and positive attention. If the boy was a plant created to ruin the name of the Potters while making himself a hero, then the political implications the boy might wield could be disastrous.

While this was happening in Dumbledore's office, Harry bumped into a group of boys standing in the hall. They were watching the children running around the place like hawks. These little people were their prey and Harry felt a tremble of anger, and a bit of fire, seeing how carefully they were choosing their targets. As Harry walked past them, he met the eyes of a tall blond with long hair. He was dressed in robes of finer quality then even Harry wore, which was rare, considering the fact that he was borrowing Orion's old robes.

"Old Blood?" The blond asked. "I don't recall seeing your face anywhere..?"

Harry didn't have an answer to either of the questions, instead he just shrugged and walked past them. Some of them were looking at the teen as if he was somewhat familiar, and others looked at him with suspicion. He was a much taller version of James, and had many more scars. There was probably little doubt that he resembled a Potter, but the fact that he was wearing Slytherin robes must be throwing them off.

Making a sharp turn in the Hall, he bumped into a small girl with short cropped brown hair. She dropped the things she was carrying: a bunch of quills, ink, and such. Harry helped her collect her things, and was off. She said that her name was Alice, and Harry made a mental note to try and remember it if he ran into her again. Girls had a tendency to become angry if guys did not know who they were.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Molly standing beside two boys who were the same age as Harry. They introduced themselves as her brothers, and thanked him for saving her. The teen accepted their gratitude, and shook their hands. Before leaving one of them made a remark. "Molly sure knows how to pick 'em." Molly screeched something at the two, and chased them out of there. "At least he has more spine than that Arthur Weasel face."

* * *

"This is as much I can do for you, Harry." Orion brought him a stack of Dark Arts books. "I have sold the rest, and believe me they are selling fairly high at this point." Harry could understand why. "This house is one of the few places in all of England that the Dark Lord would not be able to penetrate, not without a fight."

"I believe you, sir."

Harry and Orion spent the night going over the securities of the house. Orion told the orphan that he trusted him, only because he was certain the Dark Lord was going to come after him as well. Orion's old associates must be working for the man known as Tom Riddle, the name that Orion had used to refer to when he and the Dark Lord were classmates. "I suspect he wants revenge, we didn't get along. My views of halfbloods were rather extreme at the time."

Another thing Harry discovered is those very views the man had on half bloods. He didn't seem to approve of them. "I don't like this. Diluting our magical bloodline, it just makes it more likely that we would become squibs." Harry wanted to tell the man that inbreeding can result in worse problems, such as autism and Down syndrome, however, he decided against it. The man was helping him, when he didn't have to. He trusted Harry only because both their lives depended on surviving this war, and allowed the orphan to stay in his home.

He turned to face the boy, as they stood outside. "Will you protect them?" The orphan didn't ask who the man was referring to.

"I will. Rest assured I'll try to make sure they don't fall into the hands that might use them."

That night, Harry had a strange dream. His family was made up of the same people he saw today. He saw himself in the picture as well, a bit older, maybe a little wiser, and wearing robes that might have actually fit him. When he woke up, he wondered what his life in the future would be like had he survived. Would it have been better? Or the same?

These questions were not answered, since Narcissa got him downstairs to eat. Harry noticed she stared at him during the whole breakfast, and when he turned to face her, she would turn away. On the other hand Bellatrix would just look at him like he was scum during the whole breakfast, and Andromeda just served the meals.

Later, when they arrived on the Platform, Harry carried all their things, and put them into the train compartments. He said goodbye to Orion, and told him he would keep his promise. Sirius went to join his friends, and Harry was left to sit with the girls, who talked about something in a whisper that Harry could not hear, but every so often they would turn to his direction, and giggle.

The day would have gone by smoothly, had a group of Slytherins not entered the compartment. "Bella, it is so nice to see you." A tall, handsome man, with dark curly hair, said. Rudy Lestrange. The man did not age well in the future Harry concluded, but there was very little about him that would age well after Azkaban was done with him.

He was flanked by a group of people who looked far too familiar at the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry tried not to go mad and strike them down where they stood. Instead, he directed his gaze at the strange child he met in the alley, who seemed to be wearing a decent pair of robes, at least.

Recognition lit Harry's eyes, seeing the boy's enormous nose, and the sneer plastered on his pale, crooked features.

"We meet again, Mr. Snape." Snape backed away as Harry approached, his friends follow. As tall and powerful they believed themselves to be, they are only sixteen. But then, Harry was only eighteen, with two years more experience of what the world had in store, two years of anger, forged from a life of isolation, persecution, and a burning resentment for his very own family.

The tension in the room was so thick; it could only be cut with sword. The other Slytherins do no say a word, they hide their hatred well. The Black sisters looked uncomfortable, as they should, sitting near the boy who is rumored to be Charles Potter's bastard.

Before anyone could get word out to ignite, or diffuse, the situation, the door of the compartment opens, and a small, proud looking, girl with red-hair, walks in. She is startled by the situation in front of her, and backs away when she notices the people in the crowd are her enemies. It takes her but a moment to see the tallest one in the room, a boy who looks much older than the rest, a boy who resembled James Potter, and, by far, the most menacing of the lot.

Yet when the boy's powerful green eyes gaze at her, she can't help but, for a brief moment, not be afraid. Only for that moment to pass the next second as his eyes harden.

"Gentleman, it seems Evans has wandered into the serpent's den," says Lucius Malfoy, in a cool voice. He steps back, away from Harry, turns around, and takes a step towards the redhead, who tries in vain to close the compartment door. He smiles at her, a mixture of evil and mischief in his grin. His friends laugh, except for Snape, who is gripping his wand so hard it almost snapped. "Perhaps a lesson is in order?" Lily pulls out her wand, looking around desperately for help, only for the wand to be wordless summoned out from her hand.

She is about to scream for help, when Harry Potter, a boy she didn't even know, walks past the boys and stands in front of her, his back to her enemies. She feels so small as his kind face, which slowly forms a caring smile, looks at her. "Leave, it's not safe here," he says. He hands her back her wand, which he snatched from Lestrange, and places it on her small hands. "I've opened the door, go."

She ran, but as she did so, she takes one last look back, and sees him there still standing, as the compartment door slowly closes, and a beam of malicious red light heads his way.

* * *

**End**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The Boy Who Hid From Death

* * *

The battle was already over before it began. This was probably because Harry had planned for something like this to happen. The teen knew that others would not just stand by and let potential prey, Lily, just slip away. "Someone that was both small and completely harmless," he muttered darkly, but loudly enough for Andromeda to catch.

To make matters worse, she was also his mother. _Of course they don't know that_. It would be best if it stayed that way

The teen turned around to face the people in front of him, ignoring the throbbing pain in his back from where the hex hit. _Though it could be worse, had the Hallow not protected me._

Harry had only brought three things with him when he woke up, the clothes on his back, his wand, of course, and his Invisibility Cloak that was next to him when he was killed. The boy had to return to where he landed in order to find the cloak, and fortunately no one had taken it while he was off saving Orion.

It didn't take long to track it down, since he knew exactly where he fell when he was transported to this world, and the Cloak of Invisibility, his last token of his father, was not far. The boy had wept when he found it on that rainy day, while Orion stood to the side in the corner of Grimmauld Place looking at the scene with utter amazement.

Dumbledore had once told him the cloak was immune to all manors of dark spells, however the user was not. Harry had been paralyzed before in the past while wearing the cloak. However if the enemy did not know there was the cloak hidden underneath _his clothes_ that was different altogether. Theoritically the spell would be aimed at the boy, however the cloak would _happen_ to be in the way, acting as a shield between the curse and the wearer. For this absolute defense to work no one must ever be aware of the Deathly Hallows existance. _The Hallows, the Hallows, a foolish man's dream._

"Impossible!" The others, Slytherins, in the room wondered why the attack did not affect him. There was no way that this teenager, who was only two or three years older than they themselves were, could sustain such an attack, without looking like it damaged him at all.

"Malfoy, you sure there wasn't a flaw in your spell?" Lestrange asked. That particular curse was designed to paralyze the opponent and it had a high probability of working. It was a standard Auror spell, even. Too bad he wasn't aware that was he was really aiming at was Ignotus's Hallow.

"I am not a fool, Lestrange. What do you take me for?" In all honesty, he didn't look completely convinced, seeing the tall Potter take ominous steps towards them. "Surely the curse worked!" Or it would have worked, had the teenager not hidden the Deathly Hallow, the Invisibility Cloak underneath his clothes.

Potter realized that not being protected against dark curses could kill him. "Especially at this time in my life," he sighed, stepping closer to the other green-clad children, who looked at him with fear. He was in a strange place with no friends. "But that's not even the worst part." The people who were his friends, right now, could turn around and backstab him later on.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about his mother right this instant because she was away, far away. He walked closer to the group; the opponents in front of him were going to be in a world of pain within a few minutes because nobody, absolutely nobody, harmed anyone precious to him, when he was around. "Try it again," he said. He didn't smile. "Do it again." His eyes narrowed. "See what happens."

The first attack came just as expected, although he did not expect it from one of the girls that he was sitting beside, only a few minutes ago. Sure, he knew that Bellatrix would someday be a horrible person, but at this point in her life she was only a teen, lost and confused. All of them were in that tender age. _An angry teen. _But how could she do such a thing? Especially to another girl her age, or younger.

Harry repelled the attack with a shield and backed away as more curses flew in his direction. "Don't let him get a chance to strike, he isn't a novice," Malfoy's voice echoed.

Harry wrapped himself further in the cloak with his Deathly Hallow hidden slowly forced a large blast through his wand sending everybody, including Andromeda and Narcissa, toppling into the wall at such a close range. "Too much," he sighed, seeing their state and feeling upset that he had to hurt the two girls.

With another flick of his wand, he sent a ray of binding spells. "Shouldn't have used so much force," he told them, apologizing to Narcissa and Andromeda, watching as their eyes grew larger. "But you didn't leave me much of a choice." He put his wand back in his pocket.

Seeing how some of the guys there were glancing at Bellatrix, who was paralyzed as well, the dark-haired youth shook his head. "How long have you been waiting to do this? Was this all just a setup? I would think you'd be much better prepared than that."

He stopped over the paralyzed form of Rodolphus and looked down, his serpent-green eyes zeroing in on the dark-haired Black. "Especially, since you've gotten to know me over the past few weeks." He knelt down to look the black haired girl in the eyes. Despite her intentions, she had innocent eyes, not yet experienced in seeing the cruelty of the world.

"I'm disappointed in you. I should've guessed this was your plan." The girl turned away; she did not want to look into his green glare, not when his eyes flashed for a second. Bellatrix was afraid, and for a moment she almost saw the power to break into the minds of other people in his green gaze. "But that's impossible," she muttered.

The reality was that he did have that special power, Legilimency. However it happened by complete accident when Snape was teaching him in his Fifth Year. It was a terrifying ability. The ability to see into a person's mind; however he only did it once, and that was only to a certain person who was in the room.

He turned his head in the direction of that person in particular. "You! I should've known you would do this. Despite the idiocy of it all! From what I have heard about you, you're a half-blood." Snape's eyes flashed with venom. He didn't like being reminded how different he was from his group. "I'm not even sure why you would ally yourself with this." Harry gestured vaguely toward Lucius, who was paralyzed on the wall, not from a stunner, but something just as effective- struggling to get free.

Potter shook his head, he would have to cancel the spell soon; otherwise it would cancel itself. If he did not look like he had full control of his spells, there would be trouble. "I'll free you all in a moment." He stood up straight, head lowered in shame, and walked out of the compartment. "After I take a stroll." His lips moved, and he smiled slightly. "There are people here I wish to meet- no, I have to meet." Harry smiled, and closed the door. He chuckled as a group of Gryffindors was about to enter the compartment when he just left.

"Oi, what happened here?" Too bad for the group that the Gryffindors just happened to be muggleborn fist years. "Someone get that magical camera."

* * *

Harry walked into the latest compartment, after walking through six or seven already. His mother wasn't anywhere in sight and he only once caught a glimpse of anyone mildly familiar. That was why he was in this particular spot.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked a large boy with bandages wrapped around his forehead. The taller boy shook his head and allowed the ebony-haired teen to take a seat. Harry saw that the boy's hair was dark, just like his own, and he was about the same age as well.

"Is this your seventh year?" The teen asked. The larger boy nodded, looking away from the window to take a glance at Harry for the first time.

"Well technically it's supposed to be my eight year, all things considered," the large boy replied. He had an angular face; hard and muscled, he was. There was a resemblance to a person that Harry just couldn't quite recall. "Need to get the last few NEWTs for Potions class before I can apply to the Auror Academy."

The realization struck him then. "Your last name isn't Longbottom, is it?" The Gryffindor looked puzzled for a moment, before smiling. "Of course, how did you know? My reputation does not precede me, does it?" He stood up and offered Harry his hand. Harry took it without hesitation. "Longbottom, Frank Longbottom, at your service." He did a small exaggerated bow and sat back down, leaning on the compartment chair. "These are supposed to be the final year compartments, you know, the ones in the front, but most of the seventh years aren't going to return this year."

"Why is that?" Harry sat down opposite Frank, while looking puzzled. "They need their NEWTS for Ministry jobs do they not?" Frank shrugged. "I mean a lot of jobs require the final year courses for apprenticeships, why would they risk not coming back for that?"

"Well as long as you have your OWLs you're all right, out here in England, and wait!" Frank pointed at Harry. "You're not from around here, are you?" Harry shook his head. Frank grimaced. "What! Then why didn't you say so? What's your name?"

Harry hesitated, but decided that this had to be gotten over with. This was the father of one of his best friends, he could trust him. Giving another wizard your name means a lot in the magical world, it always had and always will. Names have power, after all. "Potter." The rest of the words almost didn't come out. He scrunched his eyes, and breathed out. "Harry Potter, at your service," he said, the last part coming out friendly.

Frank looked startled. His eyes widened for about a fraction of a second and then narrowed. Then he grimaced, and, finally, breathed out a sigh of relief. "You can't be serious." Frank smiled coyly. "You don't honestly expect me to believe you're a Potter." Harry didn't look amused. "There are only three Potters alive: Charles, Doreah, and James." Frank pointed to himself. "I should know, James is my cousin." That didn't surprise Harry in the least; practically everyone in the wizarding world was a blood relative.

Frank finished off his small speech with a chuckle, he glanced at Harry, then smiled. "You almost had me there." He pointed his finger at the boy. "Really now, Harry Potter, ridiculous!" The angry Potter stood up from his seat and walked to the window. He stared at the scenery outside. Fortunately it was sunny, behind him there was a large shadow, that Frank was surprised to find looked enormous, as if the boy blotted out the sun.

"I'm not lying, my name's Harry Potter." His back was to Frank, who now looked murderous; his words were coming out vile.

"You can't be Harry Potter!" he said, annoyed this time. "This isn't a joke; you are claiming to be a Potter!"

He stormed behind the other teenager and turned him around, facing his angry snarl. "Listen to me, Uncle Charles doesn't have any bastards." Frank said this with utmost conviction. "Take back what you said, and I'll forget about this." Harry didn't look Frank in the eye, which made the larger boy even more furious, instead his green pupils wandered to the floor.

He should have expected something like this to happen. Not correcting Orion was a mistake, a terrible one at that. Yet if he were to tell anyone the truth, well, they would send him to Azkaban for sure. Time travel was against the law, and all those who hadn't destroyed themselves in the course of it were sent to spend the rest of their lives in the thrall of the Dementors.

"I didn't say I was a bastard," Harry said, pushing Frank away, who had his fist balled. "I'm just saying that's my name!"

Frank shook his head. "It's not that simple, there will be hell to pay for this, and don't think you won't have to face James Potter when you get to school. You've no idea what this means to their family. The trouble this could cause." Frank sat back on his chair. "You look too much like Gramps, hell, for a second I thought you were James… the moment you came in here, why do you think I didn't look at you?" He had a point. Frank didn't look all that amused, or even bothered by Harry when he first came into the compartment.

"You're going to do something about those scars?" Harry touched his face. "Madam Pomfry has a lot of healing salves." Frank tilted his head, examining him carefully. "Though I have a feeling that if you were to get rid of them, the resemblance between you and James…" He made a helpless gesture.

Before Harry could put in a word to defend himself, the door opened. "Frank, you should take a look at this! Someone just paralyzed Lucius and his trolls." It was the same girl Harry bumped into at school, Alice, and she was followed by another girl-

"Good afternoon, Prewitt," Harry said levelly, hoping his heart wouldn't burst from relief. Molly stopped in her tracks, hearing the boy's voice, and turned to face him, her face flushed. She hid behind Alice, who looked quizzically at the two, and then her eyes lit up with realization.

"You! I knew it! I knew you looked familiar!" The brown haired girl was up in Harry's face, taking up a lot of his personal space, if he was honest with himself. "You're that guy in the paper, that guy who Apparated into Flourish and Blotts and blasted the store!" Harry wanted to correct her that it was Carrow who did that. "Then you got your butt handed to you by Dolohov," she said.

"It was I who handed Dolohov his arse," Harry replied, feeling uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. If Frank looked at Harry with suspicion before, right now the bulky boy looked at Harry with rage. "I should have realized that the first time we met," she smiled.

"Alice! Why are you so close to him! Get away from that fake!" Frank practically shouted, he moved in to separate the girl from Harry, causing said girl to huff and glare at Frank. "Excuse me! I don't recall needing your permission to meet new people!"

"I think we should be getting changed soon," Molly interrupted, now a commanding voice coming out from her, a voice so familiar that it almost startled Harry. The shy redhead caught Harry's eye and looked away. _So much like Ginny, but, well, mature. _

Alice smiled, almost evilly, seeing her reaction. "No, go on. What were you going to say?" she slipped behind her larger friend and pushed her to Harry. Molly wailed as Harry caught her effortlessly, her large chest touching his bicep.

"Sorry," Harry said, feeling highly uncomfortable. She was young, but she didn't look young in his eyes. Molly's face flushed and she got out of the boy's grasp fairly quickly.

"N-no, it's okay," she replied.

"Intriguing," Alice said, stroking her chin, as if she had some kind of beard. "Most fascinating, Arthur is not going to like this." She grinned, rows of pearly white teeth shining. "But some competition might cause the guy to make a move."

"What move? What about Arthur? Alice, if you are bothering that kid, so help me," Frank warned. Alice just made a pacifist gesture, backing away from the giant of a man and closer to the thin Potter.

"Relax, troll, I am just trying to help the bugger. You wouldn't understand," she said. The short haired girl nudged Molly in the ribs, causing the Prewitt to awkwardly gasp at the impact. "It's a girl thing, eh?"

"Well as much as I would love to continue this conversation," Harry drawled, carrying his wand out of his pouch, "I have to go unfreeze some acquaintances."

"That was you!" Alice shouted. "You're the one who froze the sixth years in the compartment! Along with Narcissa, Dromeda, and Bellatrix!" Harry wondered why Alice would call Andromeda by her pet name, and filed that thought away for another time. "How did you manage to do that_?" _

_Reflexes,_ Harry thought.

"Um, is Arthur there?' Molly asked, looking worried. "If you leave a paralyzed Lucius anywhere near him, I have a feeling he's not going to be able to stop himself. " Harry didn't think of that; he walked out of the compartment, leaving the small group of sixth and seventh years behind him.

He turned around before their door closed. "It was nice meeting you again, Molly." He paused, and shrugged. "You too, Alice."

"It was nice meeting you too, Harry!" Harry shook his head, wondering how Alice knew his name. "Molly thinks our encounter was especially nice." There was a clamor of noise at that instant, as Molly started screeching at her friend.

* * *

"What happened?" Bellatrix Black asked, seeing the world go fuzzy, and not for the first time that day. She looked around and saw she wasn't paralyzed any longer. "Cissy, Dromeda, where are you?" The brown eyed girl searched for her sisters among the small crowd of people lying frozen on the floor.

She spotted them talking to that Potter bastard. Literally, a bastard.

She scowled. "Get away from him!" she shouted. Her feet took her to where they were, and she glared up at Harry, causing the boy to sigh, she turned to face her younger sister. "Dromeda! I thought you were better than that!" She pointed to Narcissa, who had a flush on her face. "How could you let this guy stand near Cissy, we don't know anything about him!" She looked back at Harry. "I don't buy it! You just happened to save Uncle at that moment! How convenient, don't you think?"

Harry stepped over the girl, and unfroze the rest of the Slytherins. He almost laughed at how young a few of them looked. For a moment he wanted to kick Malfoy in the ribs, but opted not to. He may have been a prat, but the two of them would probably have to share the same house soon, though Harry hoped that the Sorting Hat might put him in Gryffindor.

Bellatrix kept going on about how much she did not like him in the background, causing her sisters to narrow their eyes at her, while Andromeda made vague yawning gestures.

After everyone in the compartment looked fine, Harry even took the time to check on a strange wound on Snape's shoulder.

They left, Lucius shaking his head, and one of the Lestrange brothers nursing a broken shoulder. Apparently some of the kids thought it was a good idea to use the larger boys as trampolines. "Miss Black, if you would be so kind as to not talk about me while I am standing here. I would most appreciate it." He cleared up the debris from the compartment with a cleaning spell, and opened a few of the windows. "What's that smell?" he asked.

"Gideon and Fabian were here," Narcissa sniffed, shaking her blond hair. "They released a few stink bombs. Apparently Lucius made a few quips about them last month." She pointed accusingly at Harry. "They knew who you were! This was your plan, wasn't it?" Blue eyes glared at the boy, followed by a pair of Bellatrix brown, and Andromeda aqua.

"I hardly know the Prewitt twins," Harry tried to explain, though something in his face made the occupants think otherwise. "Do you think someone like me would hang around guys like them?" Bellatrix did not look convinced and Andromeda laughed.

"No one mentioned they were twins," the blond reasoned. "They knew your name too! They like you!"

"Probably," Harry shrugged. "I am a likeable person." He ducked as Andromeda threw a comb his direction. "Hey, now! No need for that. I wasn't the one who decided to lock me up in a compartment with all your friends." The sudden uncomfortable silence returned. Harry used his wand to close the compartment door, and put a silencing spell on it. "Let's talk. The three of you have a problem with me. I want to know why."

"You're an imposter!" Bellatrix shouted, flipping her curly black hair over her shoulder, her larger-than-normal lips making venomous gestures. "There isn't anyone named Harry Potter. I owled Aunt Doreah, she has no idea who you are!" She clenched her fists and ground her teeth. "What kind of game are you playing? Are you trying to ruin their marriage, smear their name?"

Harry cut her off. "Aunt Doreah? The only Doreah I know is Doreah Black from your family tree." Orion had made him memorize most of the living Blacks in this time period, in case he would have to summon them to explain the Dark Lord situation. "Why does her opinion matter?"

"Because," she sneered, her fangs bared, "she is married to Charles Potter."

"Bugger," Harry muttered. "I didn't know." He should have, but Harry knew nothing about his grandmother. He knew Sirius and James were cousins, but how close of a blood relation they were suddenly became apparent. His eyes drifted away from the huffing face of the pale girl. "I didn't mean any trouble, I can't help it if that's my name."

"Who are your parents?" Andromeda asked, the brunette's eyes softening seeing Harry's eyes darken, and water. "Better question, where are they?" That wasn't the right question to ask. She tugged her robes closer to herself, feeling the chill that suddenly fell onto the room.

"They're dead." Harry didn't elaborate on that. How could Tonks' mother ask him that? He would have expected this from the other Blacks but not her!

Out of all the girls here, she should be the most understanding! She had lost her husband, her daughter, everyone! He saw the girl back away, seeing his eyes light with anger. He tried to calm himself. This wasn't the same Andromeda he remembered.

She wasn't Nymphadora's mother, far from it. The short haired girl was a child younger than himself.

Harry hesitated and placed a hand on her shoulder, calming her down, soon she didn't look like she was about to bolt. "I am not angry at you." A memory of her clutching her dying little girl passed to the surface of his mind. "It's just that, I was there when they died." He looked at Bellatrix, still defiant as ever. "I was there, the night they were murdered."

Narcissa gasped, pieces of a puzzle started to come together in her mind. The ominous nature around the boy, the barely-held rage, and the uncomfortable mood, it all made sense! The boy in front of her was an avenger.

From her experiences, she knew those types of people tended to be the most unpredictable. Here she thought the boy was just addled from the trauma in Diagon Alley, now she started to realize that was not the case.

"Who killed them?" a soft voice whispered. "Who killed your parents?" The tall regal looking girl ran hand through her long, curly, jet-black hair, unable to meet Harry's eyes for the first time that day. Bellatrix Black was talkative about many things indeed, but to talk about the murder of other people's parents… that was something she wouldn't dwell on.

Her friends talked a lot about the New World Order that the Dark Lord would unleash once he took over the corrupt Ministry, but she wasn't stupid enough to fall for the idea that they weren't extremists. The Dark Lord's minions were terrorists, and if she did decide to join, something that she was still deciding, there would be blood, most likely paid by the innocent.

"Please, I don't want to talk about this." The boy looked uncomfortable, his shoulders slumped, his breathing changed. "It's still fresh in my mind." The memory of all the ghosts from the Stone of Resurrection ran through his thoughts. How his parents were so proud of him, Sirius's laughing face, the last act of charity they ever did- allowing him the chance to fight the Dark lord.

Harry clutched his chest, feeling his heart break. "I am weary, so tired. If one of you wouldn't mind getting Regulus, I would greatly appreciate it."

Andromeda squeezed his shoulder as she walked past and went to get her little cousin. Bellatrix looked at Harry thoughtfully, while Narcissa looked at him with increasing worry. She stared at Bella, wondering why she sensed the older girl's feelings had changed towards the teen, and even more interestingly, why did she feel suddenly upset that her sister was seeing Harry Potter in a new light?

"Tell me something," Bellatrix said, playing with a strand of her hair, her cheeks slightly rosy. "How come our spells had no effect on you?" This may have been a distraction, but she appeared genuinely curious. Her nose scrunched. "Lucius is terrible with a wand, but not that boorish. He can cast a stunner just fine, as well as a powerful stinging hex."

Harry had hoped no one caught on to that.

Most of the Slytherins just assumed he had wordlessly used a powerful shielding charm to block out their attacks, and then slowly neutralize them, but Bella had realized that wasn't the case. If anyone ever found out that Harry wore his Invisibility cloak, Ignotus' Cloak, the last Deathly Hallow, underneath his current clothes, there would be trouble.

Dumbledore wouldn't take long to connect the rumor of his ability to withstand curses and the Invisibility cloak. Harry might as well have written "**Third Hallow"** in bright letters, if the old man ever heard about the exact details of this incident.

"When you get to my age, you have a few aces in the hole," Harry tried to explain, causing the girl to run a palm across her face in exasperation. "Not much of an explanation, is it?"

The girl didn't even reply, she got up and left the compartment, looking completely annoyed. She turned her head to her younger sister while in the doorway. "Cissy, if he tries anything, please scream, would you? I still don't trust him."

"Bella! I can take care of myself," the thirteen year old exclaimed. "I would be more worried about your friends!" She turned to face the only boy in the room, and smiled kindly. "Don't worry. I am sure if I am in trouble, this kind sir will protect me." She made an exaggerated curtsy. "I am utterly helpless after all."

Bella rolled her eyes, smirking slightly, and closed the door, earning a snicker from Harry, which the youngest sister smiled at. "Is she always like that?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"All the time," the small blond admitted. "She can be such a prude."

Harry almost fell off his chair.

Bellatrix Lestrange, a prude?

From his memories, she was all about action, all about violence, and if she didn't get her way practically everyone around her would be killed. The black haired destroyer was havoc incarnate and didn't seem to care whether she killed her allies, as long as she could fulfill the wishes of the Dark lord.

_Plus she was utterly mad._

"I'll keep that in mind." He ran a hand through his messy hair, massaging the scalp to relive some stress. "For now let's just get Regulus into school without any incident, this is his first year."

At that moment the mini-Sirius stepped into the compartment, huffing as a beaming Andromeda walked in, holding his hand. "Found him annoying a group of muggleborns," she explained. "If Ted hadn't saved him, he'd probably need to see Pomfry right now." Harry wondered if she was referring to Ted Tonks.

"Dromeda! You're not talking to that prat, are you?" Narcissa said, whining when her sister smiled wider. "Uncle will have you killed if he knows you breathe the same air as him!"

"Calm down," Dromeda said, "we were just talking."

"Talking can lead to more- how do you put it? Intimate things," Narcissa said. "And I've seen the way he looks at you!"

"Like a human being," the short haired girl tried to reason, her head slightly tilted. "You mean the way he looks at my eyes when we talk?"

"Err," she turned to Harry, and got an idea after seeing his faraway expression. "Harry, you have to explain to her that all men are beasts."

"Oh, come now!" Regulus shouted.

"She is right, we are all beasts," Harry nodded sagely, turning to look at the brunette, "But even beasts are soothed by the sound of music." Narcissa kicked his foot, earning a yelp.

"Thanks for your help," she said tersely. Narcissa was every bit the petulant girl. "I don't like him."

"You don't like Rodolphus either," Andromeda reasoned, and then she blinked. "You don't like anyone."

"Yeah, what she said," Regulus said, sitting next to Harry. He hated being around girls, they were always talking about boys. "Well I, for one, can't wait till I get to school. No need to worry about me. I am not going to end up like Sirius." His face dared anyone to challenge that statement.

"I don't know," Harry said looking out the window, smiling at the antics of these children. "I think you would make a good Hufflepuff; you seem to cling to your mother, after all. Loyalty to family and all that rubbish seems to run in the family." The other occupants did not look amused by the last statement.

Harry didn't get to have a moment of peace for the rest of the train ride.

* * *

"First years, come now!" a familiar voice said from across the deck, a voice Harry hadn't heard since Diagon Alley. The teen stepped away from the Black family, who didn't seem to be paying any attention to the mysterious boy, since they had found their school friends.

"Good evening, Arthur," Harry said, from behind the boy, making the tall redhead jump. He wore a set of secondhand robes, and had a shock of messy hair that was combed over on one side of his head. For some reason he reminded Harry of Percy, had the prat had less self-confidence, and a bit more kindness. "You're a Prefect?"

Arthur didn't get a chance to say hello to Harry, as a small group of children, one of them looking suspiciously like Regulus got on his boat. The redhead sighed. "Yes, unfortunately something happened to the last one. I am honestly not sure what." The tall boy looked uncomfortable. "I just found out today that the news isn't good- they haven't found him."

_Children going missing. _It had the Dark Lord's work all over it. He remembered from Dumbledore's speech that the Imperius curse was one of the reasons Voldemort was so successful. Families didn't even know they had a sleeper agent among them until it was too late and a loyal member suddenly turned into a dangerous enemy, ready to slice down the very people they grew up with.

"You don't suppose the Dark Lord has anything to do with it?" Harry asked, making sure not to use the word Voldemort. He had to be careful; at this time, the very word would travel through the masses and he would be under suspicion as to why he was not afraid to use that name. "Something happened to me this summer. I was attacked when I first arrived here. Perhaps this is similar?" Arthur looked uncertain as to how to answer that question.

"The Death Eaters haven't attacked many in public," Arthur admitted, his eyes looked puzzled, but there was a note of pity there. "Why would they attack you?"

That was an answer he couldn't give- not here, not ever. Orion had been very strict about keeping the matter in the family. The only ones who knew of what happened in the Black House were Harry, Orion, and the Department of Law Enforcement. The rest of the family was made aware that they had a run in with the Death Eaters, but even they weren't told the full story.

Orion wasn't sure how to tell his family that the Dark Lord wanted him killed, wanted to absorb his family into his order, then wanted take both their wealth and power. Harry wasn't sure how to break it to them either, considering Lord Voldemort's policy was pro-pureblood and families didn't get any purer than the Blacks.

"Weasley! Hurry up!" shouted another familiar voice. Harry turned around to see Alice on another boat, one with Molly and Frank sitting on it, with a group of children. "Everyone's already left; you and Molly's boyfriend can talk some other time, right now we have to go!"

Both Arthur and Harry's face lit up with shock. Harry turned to see the frozen Gryffindor's face, and saw the resemblance at that very moment! How could he have missed it! He turned around to see red faced Molly and the way she was glaring at her friend, and the temper that was about to explode out of her!

_Molly and Arthur_! "Boody hell, I am an idiot," he said aloud, which got the attention of a stammering Weasley who pulled Harry onto the boat, but looked at him with a hardness that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Then, Potter could not think of anything to say, what could he say? That the two of them were like the parents he never had? That Molly was more of a mother to him than anyone in the entire world? That he briefly fell in love with their child, if only for a month, before he went Horcrux hunting? That he knew each and every one of their children, and his life was saved by a few of them more than once?

What could he say to an Arthur who looked so solemn, and more than a bit hurt, standing in a middle of a boat, wearing clothes that reminded Harry so eerily of Ron's? Occlumency helped keep the boy from literally breaking down and trying to hug him.

This wasn't just Sirius. He had only seen Sirius for two years of his life- Sirius was like the big brother he never had, but Arthur Weasley literally took the poor orphan into his home and showed him that there were people in the world that cared for him, allowing his children to stand by him, even at the risk of their very lives.

"We're almost here," muttered Regulus, feeling the tension between the two. One looked dejected, the other looked like he was on the verge of breaking down, only being held back by a stream of heaving breathing. "Oi, snap out of it!"

* * *

Severus Snape fell face-first into the mud because of a tripping spell. He should have expected as much, but he had hoped that things would be different this year, despite how futile that wish could be. Ahead of him were a group of Gryffindors, lead by Potter and Black. They turned around, showing their backs to him, but not before giving him a smirk, knowing what they had done.

"Nice one, way to show hand-eye coordination, slimeball," a nearby Ravenclaw sneered, walking over him. Children walked past the somewhat greasy teen, some looking worried that he was injured but most laughing and ignoring the fact that there was blood flowing out of his nose.

"Shouldn't somebody help him?" a girl asked. She was wearing a set of black robes that looked all too expensive. Snape mused that she was from a rich family, if a naïve one, if they didn't know about the status of Severus Snape, resident half-blood of Slytherin House.

"Leave him, this happens all the time," a boy shrugged. Snape couldn't see who. Thus everyone, children young and old, allowed him to collect whatever dignity he had left in peace. Well, not before jeering at him, but it could have been worse, that was something he knew all too well.

It was then that a hand reached his shoulder and grasped his arm, and in a swoop he was pulled out of the mud and, was faced towards the direction of the castle.

The greasy haired Slytherin turned around to see the face of the very vicious-looking boy his group had tried to surprise in the compartment, only for him to turn the tables on them. He didn't like the idea of so many against one, he almost felt like James Potter's group when he did that. Anything that attached him to that hooligan made his blood stir.

But what choice did he have? They were the only friends he had. _Only they aren't really your friends_, a dark place in his mind whispered.

"Watch where you walk," the boy, Harry Potter, if Snape wasn't mistaken, said, ignoring the bruise marks on Snape's hand, a clear indicator that some invisible netting spells were used to stop him from grasping his wand when Potter tripped him. "It might save your life." There was a double meaning in those words that Snape could not possibly grasp.

"Thanks," Snape sneered, his moment of anger and hurt vanishing, as a brave face formed on his twisted features, "I'll try and keep that in mind, old man." He didn't need advice from someone who looked too old to be a student. Who repeated their final Hogwarts year anyway? Only stupid people did that! He may have been good in a fight, but there was much more to life than dueling.

"Move along, chaps," Weasley said, this time from behind Harry, looking at Potter with neutrality, which made Harry look away. "There's no need to be here, and you're going to need sorting."

For a brief moment Harry Potter wondered if maybe he shouldn't be in Gryffindor if he had to deal with the awkwardness that was Arthur Weasley. Then he saw the sneering face of Snape and shook his head.

_Between a rock and a hard spot._

_

* * *

_

The Sorting went out with any real surprises. Regulus ended in Slytherin and sat beside Harry, who awaited his turn. The other students were looking at the older boy quizzically, since, by far, he was the oldest one in the table. "I wasn't serious about the Hufflepuff thing, you shouldn't have looked so worried," Harry tried to reason with an angry Regulus.

"You know what the Hat said! It said I should be in Hufflepuff, I had all the right qualities! It's your fault, you put ideas into my head!" Regulus kicked Harry in the shin, underneath the table. The tall teenager didn't react. The boy was only eleven, and he didn't even kick very hard. He pretended that he felt something and just patted the boy on the head.

"Now for our last guest, this is an unusual one, but not one that hasn't been done before. Our last sorting will be Mr. Harry Potter, who has come to us from Salem to complete his final year at Hogwarts. If you would come up to the stage, Mr. Potter, we can get this started." Dumbledore gestured to the seat, from his podium.

Harry sighed and made to go in that direction, but a hand grasped his arm before he could get there. He turned around to see the smiling face of Narcissa.

"Don't mind Bellatrix, she is just a bit on edge. We aren't all like that in the train station, really. I didn't know that was going to happen, please believe me." Harry smiled at the small girl, who blushed and almost shouted the last word. "You looked cool in Diagon Alley." The girl went silent from then on, as some of her Year mates, including her best friend, Helena Zabini, looked at her, puzzled.

Harry could feel the animosity practically bursting from the Gryffindor table as he passed. He didn't have to turn around to feel the malevolent pile of hatred that was James Potter. He didn't know what his father should be feeling, but he knew the boy could not be happy with a taller version of himself pretending to be his bastard older brother.

_Only you never admitted to anyone you're a bastard, so you haven't lied yet, eh Harry? _He hadn't corrected Orion, when he knew he should, and the Potters were going to pay for it. "It's a small price to pay," he muttered walking up the steps._ For the greater good._

* * *

Minerva looked bored as the teen walked in front of her, gave her a friendly nod and sat on the chair. These sortings were very tiring in her opinion; at least Dumbledore got to sit down as everyone was sorted. She had to stand up! "Just one more, Minerva, just one more and you can let the Prefects take care of the rest," she muttered.

She heard Harry Potter chuckle and gasped, realizing she said those words a little too loud. She placed the Sorting Hat on his head, and backed away, chiding herself for losing control like that. The tall woman in her late thirties ran a hand through her auburn curly hair, shifting its silky-soft strands over her shoulder.

Minerva groaned, noticing that the top button on her Hogwarts teacher's robes was missing again. She would have to get it replaced at Diagon Alley. Had her salary been higher, she could have afforded to get it fixed today, but that wouldn't be the case for many years. "What's taking this boy so long?" Though "boy" was pushing it, he _was _a year older than any of her students.

Looking at the back of his head she could see singe marks, the kind one would get if hit with dark curse fires, but that wouldn't be possible. Clearly it must have been some strange fashion, since no one would survive that many hits to the head by dark curses. Not even Alastor had come out sane after one too many concussion hexes. "I should stop scowling so much," she chided herself, hoping the boy couldn't hear. "Wrinkles don't become me." She was reaching her forties, and, if that wasn't the worst of it, she hadn't even found a husband.

Growing up in WWII wasn't exactly the best time to find a man to love, and her prudish behavior didn't exactly allow for many, if any, bed warmers. Being a natural introvert, and aggressive, both physically and mentally, she seemed almost too arrogant. But that wasn't true. She wasn't a bossy, domineering, person at all.

She sighed to herself, feeling nervous at this sorting, just like every other time she had to be on stage.

Minerva was shy, and terrified to admit it. "It's been ten minutes," she muttered, looking at the clock. "What could the Hat be telling him?"

* * *

"…_and then I saved Orion, and here I am."_ Harry finished this with a look of pain and weariness. _"I just don't know what to do."_

The Hat didn't say anything for several minutes, Harry wondered if it was suddenly going to scream that he was a time traveler and a bunch of Aurors should appear to haul him off to Azkaban. "_Well…"_

"_I think, Mr. Potter, I think I, from the future, made a grave error."_ The Hat scowled. "_The first time around I should have went with my instincts, perhaps none of this would have happened had I done just that. From the memories I am looking through, Gryffindor has made you into, I am sorry to say, a horrible wizard when you could have been so much more."_ Harry already knew what the hat was about to say, and reached out to pull it off his head, but it was too late.

"_As I said the first time, the house that will help you in your path to greatness is... _SLYTHERIN!"

It was hard to miss the look of deep anguish in the boy's face, as he pulled off the cap and let it fall gently to the floor. He didn't hear the claps in the hall, or the sounds of cheering from Regulus and Narcissa. All he could think about was how he had screwed up.

He sat down on the warm bench, and looked around to see Andromeda touch his shoulder, her blue eyes looked at him curiously. _Kind, caring, eyes, so much like Tonks_. "I am all right, I just didn't expect that. I thought maybe I would be the same House as-"

"As your half-brother," she interrupted and finished for him, looking pained as the taller teen turned away from her.

Andromeda wanted to tell him that her House wasn't bad, that he would be happy here, with them, and that she was glad she had someone she could count on in the House. She wanted to tell him thanks for saving her uncle, she wanted to make him stop looking at the Gryffindor table, but all she could really do was stay silent and watch this teen, who, for some twisted reason, made qualities that were strange to her come out. She didn't know she could feel so much like a mother just by being near him.

When he talked to her it was with gentle hesitation, yet with a strange sense of familiarity. As if they had already met, and he was just starting to get to know her better. "Only, I don't even know if you're telling the truth of who you are, or if you really believe you're a bastard, Harry," she mumbled.

She caught her sister staring at Harry once again. Andromeda didn't understand the girl's fascination with the boy. Harry wasn't even good-looking, he looked like James after a cartload of Bludgers had smashed his face. Not a pretty sight. Not to mention that hideous scar on his forehead that was so black it stood out even during the night, a horrendous jagged thunderbolt.

"Andromeda, what would you say if I told you that out of all the houses, this is the one I'm positively sure I don't belong in?" he turned to face her, his green eyes sending a shock through her own. She almost stammered, seeing the misery in them. His eyes crinkled at the edges and looked hollow, like those of a corpse, only for them to transform back to their regular state.

In that instant she learned much about him: a terrible secret. The middle sister learned that he was an Occlumens. _What kind of secrets is he keeping?_

"I would say you can't know that for sure. This is your first time at Hogwarts and despite what people say about Dark wizards and Slytherins, I can assure you it's not true." She pointed to herself, and almost grinned, reminding him of Nymphadora in that brief moment. "Can you picture me as a Dark witch?"

Harry had to laugh, but his eyes trailed to Bellatrix as she said this, only long enough for Bella to make eye contact and quickly look away, almost in fright.

"I… I see your point."

"Besides, I think you have made friends in this house already," she said, pointing to Lucius Malfoy and his group, glaring at him from another table. Harry shrugged this off. "We're not making a great impression on you, are we?" she deadpanned.

"Not particularly," he admitted dryly. "No. Between Snape, Lucius, and your sister… it leaves much to be desired."

* * *

"Here," the smaller girl said, pointing to the boy's dormitory. "That's where you'll be sleeping. Aside from Fletcher, though, I am not sure there are any Seventh Years. He's… well, you'll see when you meet him. Any questions?" she asked, her blue eyes looking hopeful. It wasn't hero worship Harry saw there exactly, but he knew it had the potential to be.

Harry could only imagine what sort of image he conjured up back in the alley, slaying the demons, rescuing the damsel, not to mention having Bellatrix Black chase after him with an intent to kill. The girl didn't seem particularly popular outside of her House.

In fact she didn't seem well-liked within Slytherin House, either. "Thank you, Narcissa." He looked up and down the dark corridors, and saw that no one was there. He turned to face the blue eyed girl, now wearing a more casual set of robes. The youngest sister shouldn't be out here with him. "But you should go, Andromeda will be worried, and Bellatrix will kill me for being near you longer than necessary."

"Oh, um, okay." She lowered her head. Her blond bangs hid her eyes, and she turned to walk away. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." Before she could take another step, a hand was on her shoulder. She turned around to see an uncomfortable-looking Harry Potter.

Harry was struggling for words. This was the mother of his childhood enemy- well, next to Petunia- and it was Draco who had ultimately gotten Dumbledore killed, it was Draco who wanted to bring him to Voldemort, and yet it was also Draco who was screaming at Crabbe to not kill him or his friends.

In the end the little Malfoy didn't have the heart to commit murder, despite how monstrous he was; a strange paradox.

Narcissa was nothing like her son, or her husband. It was true her resemblance to both of them was startling, but this little girl didn't seem to display any of those qualities, aside from a slight need to be near anyone with real power. It was no wonder she was in such awe of him. Harry figured he would be too. _If only she knew how badly you were beaten by Voldemort._

Of course she would never find out. No one would. "I'd like to thank you for all that you have done for me. I know it hasn't been easy, me being around the house and all, but you haven't complained, despite having to come change my bandages."

The two of them had an easy relationship, that consisted mostly of one wrapping sheets around the other's bloody chest, while Harry silently contemplated his next action. "If… if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I may not be the smartest wizard in the grounds, or even the strongest." Here Harry stood straight, looking impressive. "But I have been known to make miracles happen."

The blond girl didn't make any outward reactions, but inside she was ecstatic. There weren't many heroes in the wizarding world, and those who were usually turned out to be downright insane, such as Dumbledore. Narcissa Black had seen the boy risk his life for Molly Prewitt, a likable redhead, who she doubted he even knew at the time.

When he ran out of the store in Diagon Alley, he made sure not to harm anyone in his way. He was even more careful than Bella when it came to using attacks, and did what he could to minimize the casualties. Not only that but he was cunning! He had tricked an Auror into letting his guard down, then escaped from him, only to fight and defeat one of the most ruthless people in the Dark Lord's army minutes later!

There was something dangerous about Harry Potter, she just knew it. There could be no other reason for him to be living in their house, living only a few rooms away from Orion's children no less! Was he some kind of body guard? Was their family in danger? All the signs were there, and it made her almost giddy inside- thinking about it from a romantic point of view.

But then, that same romance made her afraid. "Are we in danger, Harry?" Harry didn't answer that question, he just moved her to the exit of the corridors and watched her walk up the stairs to the girl's dormitory.

"No, none of you are in danger. Not while I am around. Not when I can do something, not when I know what's going to happen, not when I… not as long as I can keep my promises this time." He made a vow to defeat the Dark Lord, and he would fulfill it. "One way, or another."

He didn't go to the Slytherin dormitories. No, he had something much more important to take care of. "Let's go find the Room of Requirements where the Ravenclaw Diadem is," he almost snarled, his eyes practically glowing in the dark: the eyes of a predator. "There is going to be one less Horcrux after today. One less thing for these kids to worry about, and this time no one will have to die trying to destroy it."

His cloak billowed behind him, lifted by a gust of violent wind, while he stalked toward the Room of Requirement in the dark of night.

* * *

**End**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The Boy Who Death Became

**

* * *

**

"What did you find about Harry Potter, aside from the obvious?" Dumbledore asked his second-in-command, the elusive Alastor Moody. The old man took a sip from his cup of tea, and waited for the Intel to come through. It had taken a few moments for Moody to arrive, once the message was sent.

Albus did not expect the news to be pleasant. But he didn't expect this:

"Nothing, not anything we could use, I am afraid," the Auror growled. "No past. No history. Not even a muggle credit report." He touched his newly-cemented metallic eye and rubbed at its edge, his nails not marking the steel.

"Blasted rubbish, it itches, always… Albus, never cough up the galleons for one of these." It would take years before he could get used to it, but he suspected that when he did, there would be some added advantages of having such a device. Alastor was patient, when he needed to be.

"He lives with the Blacks, Albus. This isn't confirmed, but he is related to the Potters, according to Gringotts." Moody paused. He wasn't sure if this information was accurate or not. "He's powerful. That battle in Diagon Alley was simply a hint of what he is capable of, judging from the residue we collected." There was more, although this time the information made less sense. "His wand work is sloppy at best, but the energy behind it is genuine." At least, that is what he'd gathered from the witnesses.

"Hmm, I see, Alastor. You have done well." Dumbledore nodded sagely. Harry Potter was a competent wizard, perhaps a bit too competent. The Head Master had suspected as much. "I got an interesting result when I tried to look into his thoughts." Trying to use Legilimency didn't work out during the first meeting with the boy. "I couldn't advance, not without making him aware that I was looking into him. Next time, things will be trickier. He might 'look back,' if you will." Dumbledore couldn't have that, no matter what.

He suspected their second meeting might become more destructive. "There are still things I wish to find out about him, so I shall keep him around a bit longer." He rubbed his long beard thoughtfully.

He didn't want to scare off someone who might be an ally. At least, not until he fully understood what the boy's angle was. "I feel there is something we are missing, something important," Moody replied.

"Very well, continue the search. For now, I'll keep a close eye on him. "

On the shelf the Sorting Hat sneered. Its dusty smile turned feral. _"Oh, what will you do now Mr. Potter? A one- eyed monster is coming your way. _

* * *

Harry sat cross-legged, meditating, in the Room of Requirement. He knew what he had to do to destroy the sphere of Ravenclaw. "Diadem, I am coming for you. Wait for me." That didn't make it any easier. He shivered, sweat trailing down his face when images of Crabbe dying in the Fiendfyre appeared in his mind. _Stop it, Potter. You have the advantage now_.

The last time it was destroyed, Crabbe had accidently killed himself, and the rest of them barely got out of the way in time as the monstrous flames consumed everything in the Hidden Room.

"But I don't need great streams of fire," he muttered. He imagined in his mind what he wanted and suddenly a table appeared before him, along with the Sorting Hat.

The Hat sat bolt upright, or at least straight up and bounced in his direction. It looked a bit creepy if he was honest with himself. The Hat grinned.

The Potter almost batted the ancient relic away. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? You've forced my hand, made me move much faster than I would have intended to. Kept me away from my parents, made it look like I'm a spy!" Harry used his Mind Arts to keep his rage in check- he needed the Hat, at least for now. "I may not be a genius, but I am far from stupid. You could have told me your plan, instead of surprising me like that." Harry was seething. "I hate surprises."

Harry stomped towards the dratted piece of cloth. It sneered at the tall boy, almost manically. Harry had half a mind to tear it in two. His hands were grasping it so tightly that he was sure he would tear the fabric even without meaning to. "All right, let's get this over with." He put the hat on his head and imagined what he needed.

"_It is done; I wish you luck, Potter." _It laughed in his mind

The next instant, Harry turned the hat face up, looking into the hole as it filled with ancient magic. Harry reached into the hat and felt the pulse of magic, and the cold feel of metal. The smells of iron and gold filled the boy's nostrils.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Harry muttered. Slowly, he pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor. He placed it on the table, and was about to imagine the Diadem when the hat called out, "Fool, put on the Invisibility Cloak! You don't know what type of protection the Diadem contains! The Hallow will protect from only the Darkest of spells!"

Harry almost slapped his forehead. _That was utterly stupid_. He imagined his Invisibility Cloak appearing the room, and he found that it was summoned there, right next to the hat. The Room of Requirement could summon anything from within the castle. Why Dumbledore prevented the sealing of this place, Harry couldn't possibly understand.

"Just like in the movies Dudders watched," Harry laughed. The tall boy wrapped himself in the ancient cloak, Ignotus's Legacy, and placed the hat on his head. The hat became slightly smaller, trying to make itself fit. Harry lifted up the heavy sword which felt much lighter in his hands, and imagined Riddle's Horcrux, Ravenclaw's glass, appearing before him on the table. It was going to come out of the Hidden Room. Harry imagined the ball, the location, and imagined it outside of its hidden place.

"Here it is," the hat muttered. "Get ready, Potter."

As soon as the evil piece of Voldemort's soul was summoned, Harry could see an eerie eye looking at him through the glass. It was the shape of a Basilisk pupil and hissed, sending screeching noises around the room. "Who dares summon the Dark Lord?" The construct floated in the middle of the room, looking for whoever brought it there. _This is new; it didn't do this the last time._

It would have found Harry, had the Invisibility Cloak not had a secondary function: hiding its user from most detection spells. The boy mused that Ignotus was truly a genius. So far, only a powerful magical eye, a cat called Mrs. Norris, and the Dementors of Azkaban had ever been able to find him while he wore it. "It hides the user from Death itself," Harry concluded. "But of course, not always."

Before the Diadem even knew what was going on, it was struck down by a giant golden sword that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. It couldn't even see the hand that held it. "No, this can't be! I am Lord-" And then it exploded, sending hundreds of tiny shards flying and embedding themselves into the walls.

Harry had ducked during the explosion and only had to worry about one or two pieces of glass which stuck into his feet. A sharp piece managed to hit the side of his pants, very close to a certain useful part, albeit one that the boy had yet to even use. He wasn't ready for a vasectomy- at least, not yet. _Close one… I'll have to change out of my underpants. _

"That actually went better than I expected," the hat muttered. But then, the Diadem was the only Hallow with no magical protection, a fact purely due to Riddle's sheer arrogance.

The others would not be so easy: the ring, the diary, and the locket. Nagini had not been created yet, and he himself had already died once, so those were all that remained of Voldemort's immortality.

He slowly got up and washed himself with a cleaning spell, then patched up any wounds or cuts. He pulled the Sorting Hat off of his head, then pulled off the Cloak of Invisibility, and tossed it to the floor.

"But I still need to train," he yelled, waiting until a training dummy appeared. Harry smiled and pulled out his wand. "And I'll need to master my Occlumency and Legilimency." Oddly enough, another dummy appeared; only this one was Snape-shaped, with a devilish sneer to match.

"See through my mind, will you. Let's see who the dunderhead is."

* * *

Poppy strutted around her domain, basking in the afterglow of finishing all her work. It had been an easy day, as not many students had shown up in her clinic. She hoped it would stay that way. "Until the broom lesson started," the young woman snorted.

"Still, this isn't so bad." It seemed like the start of a promising new year, since not a single accident had yet occurred.

She wasn't a tall woman by any stretch of the imagination, nor an old one. Far from it; she was only a few years younger than Minerva.

The dirty blond haired woman was actually stunning if one could get past her hard-edged exterior. Her no-nonsense professional attitude somehow turned off more suitors than it brought in, but if she could only manage to keep her mouth shut for longer than ten minutes, men would flock to her.

"I hate those little bastards so much," she muttered, mixing more white potions near the bed.

As it were, she never stopped talking, and her kind of talking often lead to nagging, which only made men avoid her. She was pretty, but one could only stand to look at the witch in her early thirties for so long while trying to keep up with a conversation about safety, rules, and regulations.

Little wonder she and Minerva got along splendidly.

The nurse was about to leave her realm when, not surprisingly, James Potter came in clutching his hip. "I need your help, Madam, please! Do you have time?" He said this in an extremely polite voice.

That was strange, because normally, James just assumed that he could just barge in here at any time of the day without worrying if it was interrupting her. The medical nursing field required more work than just healing; she was also in charge of diagnosing some of the longer-term patients, as well as making sure that everyone got the proper potions on time.

In the modern world, she was more like a family physician, a pharmacist, and a nurse all wrapped up in one, with more stress and anguish coming with the job than any of those fields combined. "James, have you grown? What happened to your face? You should have come to me sooner, oh heavens, poor boy, who did that to you?"

Harry shook his head, about to say he wasn't James. He started smiling, which made the older woman look more annoyed. "This isn't the time for one of your jokes. I don't find self-inflicted harm on your visage a funny thing, indeed, that is not humorous in the least."

She guided the boy, who she suddenly realized was almost a full head taller than her, to the bed. "You certainly changed over the summer." Were his shoulders always this wide? He seemed to have a hard time fitting through her door.

The boy opened his mouth to say something, but groaned as blood started to seep from the place he was holding. "Goodness dear, let me have a look at that!" The boy's eyes widened as she flicked her wand and his pants slipped off, dropping to the floor.

Madam Pomfry paled.

This wasn't James Potter. "Oh… dear."

James Potter could afford underpants.

* * *

"You were talking with Lucius again," Andromeda said. She caught up. "Please don't tell me you buy into that Dark Lord nonsense."

"What is it to you?" Bellatrix drawled, turning towards the door of her dorm. She opened it without a hitch and went inside. Her younger sister followed.

Andromeda stopped, her eyes narrowed. "I heard you. I don't know how long I can keep lying to Narcissa! She thinks you are still playing neutral. She doesn't know you have considered taking sides, more particularly, the other side."

The dark-haired witch turned to face the shorter girl. "You don't know the whole story, so don't make assumptions," she paused, then adding, "dear sister."

"Bellatrix-" Her older sister slammed the door on her face. "What… what's happening to us?"

* * *

Despite popular opinion, Poppy hadn't seen that many, well, one got the picture. Most boys in the school preferred to keep any problems they had, practically anything to do with their manhood, a secret. It was far too embarrassing for them to go to the school nurse, a young school nurse at that, and explain their problems.

In the worst case, she once had to change Severus Snape's robes, and the house elves did most of the work then- _thank god_- so, no, she was not particularly familiar with what a man's tool was supposed to look like.

Not since Healer's College.

So when she removed the boy's pants, and Harry Potter's manliness sprung up, showing her what the purple monster looked like after a very, very long time, she couldn't help but look like she was going to run.

James Potter always wore underpants. This wasn't James Potter.

"Oh dear," she cried, and accidently tripped on a pot nearby.

Harry made to grab her before she could completely fall, but tripped over himself. He fell to the floor with a resounding thud, and the white gooey potion she was mixing also fell.

Poppy gasped, and wondered if the boy had hurt himself. She made to get up, ignoring pain in the back of her head from her fall, but slipped on the white potion that spilled on the floor when Harry fell over.

"Madam, look out." Harry caught her, this time before she could fall face-first onto the floor, and almost let go when he hit the back of the bed, and made another vial of sticky white potion fall.

This time the sticky white fluid fell down on Madam Pomfry's face.

The poor woman looked dreadfully hysterical, and tried to wipe the sticky fluids from her face. "I can't see, please do something." Harry barely got the gist of what she said, but realized that the sticky white potion must be making it difficult for her to breath. Harry reached for his wand that lay on the side of his bed, but realized it was too far.

He stood up, ignoring the fact that Pomfry's face was a few decimeters from his private zone, and grasped his wand. "Got it, hold on Ma'am, I'll get us cleaned up," he said. His face began glowing in a deep blush, but he was glad that the white fluid didn't allow for Poppy Pomfry to see him naked. _Well, this can't get any worse. _

He regretted changing out of his underpants before he arrived. There was a lot of blood on them, due to the shards of the Diadem piercing the place where the top of his elastic boxers was. Had he known Madam Poppy would do something like this, something she never did back in his time, he would have just kept the bloody underpants.

He backed away and sat on the bed, trying to distance himself from the young woman, who was clawing at her face in frenzy, a rosy blush coating her face. Harry was about to say a spell to wash away the white goop but-

"Poppy, I am sorry to come in so late, but I am having trouble with-" A brown-haired teacher walked into the mess. The tall woman with black rimmed glasses paused when she took a look at the situation.

Minerva McGonagall froze. Not a muscle on her face moved.

In front of her was her best friend, Poppy Pomfry, a Healer who graduated three or four years after herself, kneeling on the floor.

That was not the issue.

_That_ wouldn't be such a problem had the person she knelt under not been naked. It wouldn't have been a problem had her mouth not been open, saying words Minerva couldn't hear.

It _certainly_ wouldn't have been such a problem had Poppy's face not been covered with white goo.

Harry was about to summon his pants back on when something caught his vision, and his eyes met Minerva's stare. Absolute horror, dread, and shame appeared on his pale features with every single second Minerva looked at them, and Harry was so shocked by all of this that he completely ignored Poppy trying to tell him to get the sticky goo off of her, it was "_hardening_," she said_._

_I am dead. I am so dead. _

Harry was afraid his Transfiguration Professor would scream, alerting Filch. _Just what I need._

That's what he would have done if he had walked into something like this. "This isn't what it looks like," he yelled, trying to cover himself, his other hand holding onto his wand.

Minerva's face didn't even change expression; she was still looking at them, face frozen.

Poppy grabbed onto this left thigh. "Boy, I can't see, please use Scourgify… urgh, get rid of this," she said, pointing to her eye. Harry could only moan in agony thinking what this must look like to McGonagall, now that Pomfry was touching his thigh.

He looked up at the teacher and was about to defend himself from vicious curse, when his Transfiguration Prof fainted. Harry blinked. "This is a good thing, right, I can tell her what really happened, can't I_?" Keep telling yourself that Potter, nothing ever goes your way, and you know it. _

It was going to be a long evening.

* * *

"Rough night, Mr. Potter?" Narcissa asked cheerfully.

The blond took a seat beside the bastard boy, and looked over his shoulder. Bellaxtrix was coming towards them to tell him off, or at least warn him to stay away from her sisters. "Did you even get any sleep? Fletcher said you weren't in the dorms. So where were you?"

Harry refused to answer. _Trying not to look Pomfry in the eyes. What a way to make an impression, Potter. _

He didn't have to answer her, as Bella had arrived. "Probably out causing havoc, as if this school could use more trouble-makers." Bellatrix stood to Harry's left, her long arms folded over her chest. Harry mused how underdeveloped these two sisters were, compared to Andromeda. Then shook his head- he shouldn't be having such thoughts. Thoughts like those were likely to get him kicked out of Grimmauld Place.

"What I do on my spare time is no one's business but my own," he muttered, not looking at either of the two. The blond- and black-haired maidens looked at one another quizzically then looked back at the boy.

"You're hiding something… why does that not surprise me?" Narcissa drawled. She didn't look offended; everyone should be allowed their secrets. She reached out toward his plate and stole his sandwich. Harry didn't even put in an effort to stop her.

"If you ask me, the less secrets we have, the better. I have a feeling this boy's secret is more trouble than your fascination with the dark arts, Bella," Andromeda said, coming up beside them.

The brown-haired girl took the seat on the other side of Harry and stole his eggs. Harry didn't make a move to stop her either. He wondered if this was what it was like to have sisters. He didn't have any siblings and Dudley wasn't exactly the best brother figure, not by a long shot.

"Do you mind moving, Potter?" Bella demanded. Then thought about what she said. "Not that I believe you're really a Potter, but I should call you something other than bastard." She took careful emphasis on how she pronounced bastard.

She especially stretched the_ -tard_ sound.

If she weren't two years younger, Harry would have felt offended. Instead, he got up and turned around. Bellatrix was tall for her age, but she was still only sixteen; she barely got to his chin. Harry patted her on the head, just the same way he did to Regulus. "There, there, someday you'll be able to speak like a human being." He put a bit of fake malice in his voice. "Don't give up, Miss Black, you're not the only one suffering from speech impediments." This got her seething. "Muggles all over the world suffer from this as well. Cheer up"

She slapped him. Harry didn't make an effort to block, since she had to reach up to do it, and the impact wasn't nearly as strong as Bella would have wanted it to be. "Don't. Don't ever make fun of the way I talk." She clenched her fist, glaring daggers at the taller boy, then turned around and walked out of the hall. She shoved James Potter on the way, and Sirius called her the_ B_-_word, _passing her as she left the hall.

"What was that about?"

Narcissa looked uncomfortable, but spoke up nonetheless. "You went too far, Harry. Bellatrix worked very hard to talk like the rest of us. She grew up with a magical condition that made it difficult for her to communicate with other people," Narcissa explained. "It's not easy to tell someone how you feel when you speak in baby talk. Up until Second Year, she sounded like a child." Narcissa turned away. "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this."

_That explains a lot. _Madness combined with loss of self-control would result in her childish ravings. It wasn't just Azkaban that lead her to talk that way… he should have guessed. Sirius, the Lestranges, and Dolohov had no problem talking like adults, and they were even somewhat legible.

Bellatrix, on the other hand…

"I seem to always get on her bad side, don't I?" Harry asked. Frankly, he could care less. So what if he hurt her feelings, it wasn't like she hadn't done anything to him._ Not yet, at least. _She killed Sirius, she tortured Hermione, and she murdered Dobby. Harry despised the person she would grow up to be, the monster who laughed at his corpse_. Calm down, Potter. This isn't the time. _

"Are you okay?" Andromeda asked. She leaned onto his shoulder and touched his forehead. Andromeda figured that he wasn't burning up but it wouldn't hurt to confirm. Maybe he had done something last night that wasn't sanitary… but then, Sirius and his friends always pulled things like that, so she brushed that out of her mind. Perhaps he should be entitled to be a little fun.

"Anyway, here is your agenda." The small yellow-haired girl handed Harry his agenda. He opened and groaned when he saw what his first class would be. "Just my luck. Transfiguration."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall despised Harry Potter. "Sit down in the back seat; we will began the lesson as soon as the rest of the class arrives." Her glasses looked especially large when her blue eyes glowered like that. "Don't make any noise, don't move, and especially don't take out your wand before I tell you to."

Harry wanted to tell her that he had already passed his OWLs, so she couldn't simply boss him around like that. He was technically a certified wizard.

But the heated blue-eyed glare the teacher gave him made him stop. "Right, I'll do just that," he said. He tip-toed to the last seat and tried to make himself scarce. The less attention he could draw to himself, the better. He doubted Poppy, or at least that is what she wanted to be called, explained to the Professor the full details of what happened. "That would just be too embarrassing," he sighed.

Eventually, the rest of his classmates entered. Harry was surprised to see Frank, Arthur, Molly, and a few others that he didn't recognize. It shouldn't have bothered him so much, but it did. Molly sat in the front seat, but then got up to join him in the back. This prompted Arthur to get up and join Molly, and since Frank found himself the only member in the front, he followed Arthur.

Arthur almost glared at Harry, but then looked sad when he saw Molly's happy expression. Molly wasn't a cheery person by nature, so seeing her happy made him happy. Seeing her happy with Harry around, however, made him a bit cold. Harry hoped they could be friends, again.

"How was your first day?" Molly muttered, looking at her hands, and not at Harry. The taller boy looked like he was trying to hide from their Professor, who seemed to be seething for some unknown reason. "Did you find your dorm? Did you meet your roommate?" Fletcher was a disgusting person, but he wasn't that bad.

Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't meet Fletcher, but I heard great things about him." Harry got a sick feeling in his stomach when he pronounced those words. He had a hunch that he was going to be meeting Dung soon. "How is this class? I heard the final year Transfiguration could be devilishly tricky."

Longbottom snorted.

Frank slumped over his desk to answer. "It's actually fairly easy, if you have the magical energy. Transfiguration isn't so much fine-tuning as it is just brute energy combined with a bit of will. You have to have a strong will, that's key. Bending things to another shape is hard on any day, but the stuff we cover this year is on a whole other level, especially with this small a class size."

"Animagi?" Harry asked.

Frank looked startled. "Merlin, no! What gave you that idea?" Longbottom's eyes narrowed.

Harry shrugged. He turned to face Arthur, who was trying to make conversation with a red-faced Molly. "Does she always make that face?" Harry said, pointing to the Professor who had begun writing on the board. "She was a lot nicer when I first came in."

Arthur looked at Minerva. "Actually, no, she is often gentle. Professor McGonagall is a bit on the quiet side, and sort of strict, but she is pleasant to talk to. Something must have happened to her. Why do you ask?" He looked at the dark-haired boy suspiciously. Harry turned away from him without answering and started copying down the notes on the board.

After the four of them were done, it was time for practice. "Today we'll be transfiguring objects into plates. Any questions? Good. What I want you to do is try and combine these desks into a conglomerate large enough to shield yourself from an array of attacks. Don't ask me why, just do it."

Minerva didn't want to let the students here know that they were someday going to be approached by the Order of Phoenix. Well, everyone except for the nasty Potter bastard. "All right, get into pairs and get started."

It didn't take long for them to get the hang of the spell. Surprisingly, it was Harry who was the first to get it to work, much to the annoyance of Frank. It seemed like the boy hadn't completely forgiven Harry's earlier run-in with Alice. Harry could guess why.

Alice was attractive in her own right, and had a nice personality. Harry suspected she would clash with him if they had spoken more than a few sentences to one another.

Why someone as silent and straightforward as Frank would want to date her, Harry had no idea. "All right, let's switch. Molly, show me your movements, I'll see what you're doing wrong." Molly Prewett, Harry liked. She was silent and docile, sort of like himself. She spoke when she was spoken to and became embarrassed easily.

Harry found it difficult to keep looking at her eyes, when her chest was so generous; far, far too generous for his liking. The pinkish girl had a pleasant face, and an old fashioned hair bob that went down to her chin, a look that suited her well.

It was always her chest that got his eyes' attention. Molly seemed to have noticed this as well, since she would cover herself and pulled up her dress shirt whenever she leaned in and it slipped down just enough to show a bit of cleavage.

Molly Prewett was an old-fashioned girl. She didn't believe in intercourse before marriage, kisses, or older men hitting on her. Growing up under the thumb of her aunt Murial made her more shy and skittish around people. She had low self-confidence and relied on her stronger friends.

Harry Potter was strong. Despite all the bad press about him, he seemed to shrug it off. She hoped she could be just as strong. She looked to him for that kind of strength, hoping some of his will would rub off on her. Ginny's to-be mother blushed just thinking about it.

Eventually, with the help of Harry, she was able to perform the spell. "Well done, Molly; everyone take 10 points for Gryffindor." Harry didn't make a comment about how unfair this was. He just tried to make his shield larger with transfiguration.

It got to the point where it covered half the room, and he was told to sit the lesson out. Still, the look Minerva gave him, a look of surprise when he didn't look put out, must have meant something.

The wavy-haired Professor decided that the class was done. "Well done. For your assignment, do pages three to fifteen. I want an essay on the strengths and weakness of this shield. Good day." She smiled as Arthur and Molly left, and looked neutral as Frank joined them.

Just as Harry was about to leave, out the door, the serious woman touched his shoulder.

She glared straight at him. The brunette was tall, and that was no understatement. Her height was slightly more than Harry's, but Harry felt so much shorter while she glowered at him with those cat-like eyes. "I am watching you, Potter."

Her glasses gave her the appearance of a strict teacher and made her seem even more vicious. "One more deviation, that's all I need and I am going straight to the Headmaster." She wasn't even this strict with James and his crew. This meant trouble. "Do you understand what I mean? Do we have an understanding, Potter?"

Harry scowled, Poppy hadn't explained anything at all, but nodded nonetheless. "I'll do what I can not to disappoint you," he said, adding, "Professor_." I liked you better when you were a bitter old crone._

He stepped out of the room, almost knocking over Prewett, who was waiting for him to leave.

* * *

"What's going on here?" Harry asked. He was standing behind a crowd of people, mostly consisting of first years. They were pointing and laughing at something. The Potter wanted to see what it was but had an odd suspicion of what it could possibly be already.

"The greasy git, that's what. He tried to curse James in the hall, something about stealing some book." Harry raised both eyebrows._ Bloody hell, the Half-Blood Prince._ Harry made his way through the groups of first to fifth years. Not one of them seemed to be doing anything.

Snape was writhing on the floor, froth coming out of his mouth.

He didn't look particularly injured, but Harry could see the tell-tale mark of the tickling curse_. Are they trying to murder him_? If he couldn't breathe out of his mouth and he couldn't stop laughing, it could be very painful. "But Sirius already knows that," he muttered.

The crowd didn't try and stop him as he went to the side of Severus, and stopped the curses, both the cleaning froth and the ticking curse. James and his gang were next to Snape, but they didn't seem to expect someone to come and stop this, especially not Harry. Despite Harry being a slimy Slytherin.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" Harry asked quietly, trying not to be overheard. He looked straight at Sirius, who scuttled slightly behind James. He was using James as a shield. _Smart move._ "I am not laughing, Sirius."

He turned his back to the Marauders. He was wearing his Hallow underneath his clothes, but he didn't expect the four of them to be stupid enough to attack him, a seventh year, in broad daylight.

"He attacked first," Sirius tried to reason. "He had it coming. You weren't here, so you don't know." He folded his hands over his chest." Lousy git, thinks he can get away." Harry didn't like the expression on Sirius's face. It reminded him of Draco Malfoy. "Hexes us when our backs are turned! He's nothing but a coward."

Harry continued to heal Snape, and even cleaned his dirty robes. "Then what does that make you?" Harry asked. Sirius considered replying, but decided against it, this was a rhetorical question. "Don't let me catch you hurting this boy, not when I am around."

He turned around, his green eyes narrowed.

"I may owe your father much, but that doesn't mean he would be proud after hearing about this." Snape got up, and sent murderous glares at the four students who were slowly folding into the crowd of Gryffindors. They looked like they might fight back for a moment, but fearful because of the way Harry was holding himself, they decided to leave. _For now, but they'll be back._ "As for the rest of you, get to class. There is nothing to see here."

The Hogwarts students scattered, except for a Prefect who leaned back on the wall and sneered. It was a Slytherin Prefect. The green-clad boy went with the crowd eventually, but looked at Snape in disgust. Harry tried to reel in his emotions_. Sirius, James, Remus… and Pettigrew, the Marauders. Peter, he'd have to be dealt with soon. Oh yes, very soon. Same with you, Lucius._

Harry waited for Snape to get up and stand straight. "I didn't need your help," he muttered. "I had it under control." Snivellus wiped off the slime on his robes, but noticed someone had cleaned it. He looked at Harry carefully and suspected the bastard had something to do with it. "I had them just where I wanted them."

Harry put his hand on his shoulder, Snape flinched. "I told you earlier to watch what you do." Harry considered what he wanted to say. He would have to be careful. Snape seemed tough, but was really fragile. "The more you fight them, the worst things will get." _You might find yourself in the stomach of a werewolf, Snivy. _Harry understood full well what it felt like to be bullied, but, unlike Snape, he himself didn't have the option to fight back.

Dudley and his gang would always get away with it. Teachers would ignore the signs, and the more he thought about what his aunt did, the angrier he became. Snape must have caught a brief glint of that rage, because he took a step in another direction. "If you will excuse me, I have a class to attend."

Harry tried to put himself in Snape's shoes. This was a man who had made school almost unbearable, and yet he was also the same man who died in the Shrieking shack, his last words so haunting and terrifying. _"Look… at… me." _Harry did look at him. He saw Snape, for what he was, then, and there_. But that doesn't mean I forgive you. _Potter never would.

He was his mother's best friend. That much counted for something. His help allowed her to become the witch that she was fully capable of becoming, and to Harry that meant he was almost like family, albeit a very, very, distant member.

"If they give you trouble, don't try and take them on your own," Harry hesitated. The words almost didn't come out. "If they try and harass you, steal your things, or try and attack you, find a way to escape. I… I'll talk tp Sirius." Snape's eyes widened; no one had ever offered such a thing before. "He'll listen to me." Harry's haunted eyes hardened. "I'll make him listen."

Severus Snape was speechless, but afraid. On one hand, this Slytherin was offering help, but on the other, at what cost? Snape didn't have any money. His family was poor. He could barely pay for his clothes, his father was a drunk. The less said about his mother, the better.

Harry seemed to have picked up on that thought because he eased the boy into the nearest hallway.

"Run along, Mr. Snape. you have class, don't you?" Snape slowly nodded, he was about to ask for his bag back, but Harry summoned it easily. "These belong to you." He noticed that the bag didn't seem to have the _Half-Blood Prince_, Severus's most prized possession. "Tell me what they took?"

Snape seemed to have a difficult time getting words out of his mouth. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he was breathing hard. "My Potions book," he managed to say at last.

"Why is this book worth almost dying for?"

"It belonged to my mother."

"Ah," Harry said, sagely. "I see. I really do." Snape left after that. Harry watched him go to the end of the corridor and walk to where the Potions Class was_. Give me some time, Severus Snape. There is still something I have to take care of._

After all, the second Horcrux wasn't going to destroy itself.

* * *

"Please don't hurt me," Borgin said, dropping his wand. Anyone would if they saw a particularly angry teenager crawling out of their prized cupboard. He suspected the person coming to be a Death Eater, if he was wearing green Slytherin robes. "If you want money, I can give it to you. Just don't steal anything, some of these are promised to your kind." Borgin fell on his arse as the figure stepped closer.

Taking a closer look, he noticed an array of dark curse scars and a giant thunderbolt scar on his forehead. He shivered. "I won't tell anyone I saw you, if that's what you want. Go right ahead, use my two-way cupboard." It wasn't like anyone else was using it.

_Draco, you creepy arse-hole, I never thought I'd be glad to use your ideas. _The two-way cupboard in the Room of Requirement allowed people to exit out of the castle, without anyone being the wiser. The only downside was that the exit was always Borgin's shop, since that was where the cupboard was, for now. _I think I should purchase this someday, when I have the money._

"Tell anyone what you saw and the Dark Lord will be displeased," Harry said, imitating Lucius Malfoy's strange, feminine drawl.

He walked out of the shop and Apparated out of Knockturn Alley.

* * *

"I never thought I'd come here." Harry stood in front of the Gaunt Shack. He aimed his wand at the door and blasted the small front porch apart. He stepped over the rubble that was the entrance and pointed his wand toward the floor. In another blast, he blew up the floorboards and saw a golden box.

Harry ignored the sounds of serpents, and a strange ethereal aura filled up the area. It almost felt familiar.

"Gaunt's ring, there you are," he stepped over the broken floor boards and looked at the golden box. He pointed his wand at the ring and summoned as much anger and hatred as he could muster. He flashed through his memories of Voldemort killing his parents, his fight with Quirrel, the Basilisk, the day Cedric died, and finally, the battle on the grounds of Hogwarts.

Needless to say, the Killing Curse exploded out of his wand and hit the ring inside the box.

In an instant the box broke, and in the next instant, Harry looked at his arm and saw that it was withering. "No, no! Don't tell me that curse was active _now_!" He should have remembered what happened to Dumbledore's arm.

Before his arm withered away completely, Harry raised his wand up and repeated the same curse. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

The Horcrux screeched as it shattered, but the stone on the ring leaped out from the broken metal band and fell into his outstretched hand. "This can't end like this. I refuse to give up," he shouted. "This was my chance, why now?" he screamed. "Damn you, damn you to hell, Riddle!"

Harry felt the stone on his palm shake and looked at it as it started to turn, once, twice, three times_. The Hallow is activating itself, what is it- _Harry screamed as the withering curse began to infect his lungs. He howled for the pain to stop, and was shocked to see a bright beam of light appear before him. "Help me, someone," Harry pleaded. "Anyone."

In front of him appeared a young Tom Riddle: The soul in the Horcrux.

Before Harry could say another word, the spirit of teen Riddle turned into a beam of light and aimed itself into his mouth. _He's trying to possess me! I won't let you! _

Harry fought against the spirit that came out from the Stone of Resurrection. He maxed out his Occlumency shields but he couldn't keep them up. Harry couldn't concentrate with all the horrible pain in his arm. He bent to his knees, screaming at the floor, howling like an injured demon.

"_Don't fight it, I am trying to help you. Let me help you, please. I beg you." _ The presence didn't feel evil, but that's how demons operated.

"Lies, you just want a body!" Harry spat, blood flowing out of his nose as he felt his lungs fill with blood and severed skin, some coming out through his nasal cavity. "I am not an idiot, Voldemort. I'll fight you with everything I have!"

He couldn't die. Not yet, not when he had found more people to protect. The Blacks, Molly, Arthur, Alice, Frank, Minerva, Poppy, and, yes, even Snape. If he failed now they might not live to see tomorrow. He wasn't alone anymore, he had people. He is just starting to know them. Most of them hated him, but some of them did not. In the end wasn't that worth fighting for?

The memories he spent with these children flashed through his mind, they spun faster and faster as the spirit tried to poses him, they gave him power, they gave him hope, and they gave him a reason to live.

Harry let out a howl of rage so load it made that day in fifth year when he tore apart Dumbledore's office seem like a tantrum. This time it was so furious that it tore off the very floor he was kneeling upon. He was stronger than this, he had survived worse than this, and this wasn't the end. This wouldn't be his last chance. His last chance was yet to come. It would be the day when he would fight off the Dark lord, once last time.

And then Harry Potter glowed.

* * *

**End of Book One**


End file.
